Tying The Threads - A novel in 11 parts
by The Finale Fixit Group
Summary: Voyager's final episode left a lot a lot of questions unanswered. What happened to the Maquis? Is the Doctor sentient? How does Naomi feel about being on Earth? What happened to Tuvok and T'Pel? And of course, the biggest questions of all - what happened
1. It Ain't Over 'Til the Captain Sings by ...

It Ain't Over 'Til the Captain Sings Disclaimer: Paramount and Viacom own them all, including the ship. I own the words that follow...   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Chapter One of "Tying the Threads." Immediately after "End Game", Voyager is in the AQ. Questions about Admiral Janeway's real agenda haunt both the captain and the commander as the ship heads for Earth.   
Author's Note: Thank you, LA, for trading lines. You're the best. 

It Ain't Over 'Til The Captain Sings   
_Copyright September 2001 by Cassatt_

  


Kathryn Janeway touched the screen gently, tracing the outline of the U.S.S. Voyager's schematic displayed on the briefing room wall. 

"You did it, old girl, you got us home, " she said softly. "You may be limping a bit, and may have seen better days, but you managed to hang together. And for that, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart." 

The journey into the Alpha Quadrant had left its mark. Warp drive was off-line so they were traveling back to Earth on impulse power. Low impulse at that. B'Elanna, in sick bay with her new baby, was nonetheless chomping at the bit to get back to engineering and fix it. Kathryn had had to resort to ordering her to stay in bed, eliciting a promise from Tom that he'd keep her from getting anywhere near the doorway. Seven was sent down to help the engineering staff make whatever repairs were possible. Everyone wanted the ship to be in the best possible shape when they reached her home planet. Wanted the Federation and Starfleet to be impressed by how she had survived, flying for many more years than originally thought possible with only a few major maintenance overhauls. 

The engineering crew was working hard to honor both their chief and her unofficial assistant chief. The recently lost Lieutenant Joe Carey. Kathryn made a silent vow to get down there before too many hours had passed. To give them her private thanks, before the general crew meeting that was scheduled for early the following morning. She ran her hand one more time over the screen, softly touching all the different departments throughout the ship, letting seven years of memories wash over her. 

Seven years of trying, sometimes desperately, to find dilithium, trilithium, deuterium, virilium, and all the other minerals and parts needed to keep the ship functioning. Seven years of spit and bale wire, as her great-grandfather used to say. Of integrated alien technologies, Borg technologies, Maquis engineering creativity. And yet, the relationship between the Captain and her ship had never wavered. Voyager always came through for Kathryn Janeway. She made a second vow, this one aloud. 

"I'll do whatever it takes to see you're not decommissioned, dismantled, and torn up for spare parts. I can't promise you'll still fly, but I can promise I'll do my best by you. No Captain could have asked for more from her ship. You deserve the same from me." She turned off the schematic and made to leave the briefing room, patting the wall affectionately just before the door swooshed open. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Commander Chakotay, piloting, met her eyes as she entered the bridge. "I'd li..." 

She held up her hand to silence him, turning to ops. "Harry, patch through a communication to Admiral Paris at Command in ten minutes. I'll be in the ready room." She faced the helm again. "Now. What?" 

"I'd like to go to sick bay and see B'Elanna and Miral. I'll get Ensign Jenkins to take the helm," he said with a small smile. 

"That's fine. Give the baby a kiss from me, would you?" She suddenly felt a slight blush creeping across her cheeks, hoping he didn't realize the suggestiveness of her comment. 

His smile broadened. "I'd be happy to, Kathryn." 

She almost admonished him for being personal on the bridge but stopped herself. She wondered if he understood her earlier command, when she'd ordered him to take the helm for Tom. If so, she certainly couldn't fault him for following her lead. But whether he did or didn't, she needed to be making her own plans. So she returned the smile, thanked him, and retreated to the ready room. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

She opened her desk, pulling out seven years of accumulated stuff. A rock containing a beautiful purple vein of crystal she'd gotten on a shore leave. A shore leave taken with Chakotay. They'd hiked the hills and had a picnic lunch. He'd actually been the one to find the crystal vein, giving it to her almost shyly, then beaming at her when she thanked him warmly. That had been a lovely day, one of those times they rarely had since their twelve week hiatus on New Earth. 

Chakotay. The conversation with her future self came back to her, giving her some measure of comfort that she sorely needed right then. Her heart still ached, remembering the admiral telling her about Chakotay and Seven, married. _Married..._

_"Did you honestly think he would wait forever for us?" Admiral Janeway said, her eyebrows raising significantly._

_"But..."_

_"No buts, Captain. I think it's safe to say that your almost blind adherence to protocols cost me everything."_

_Kathryn looked at her older self, seeing the lines of pain around her eyes. "You seemed to be supportive of his choice a few minutes ago..."_

_"I've had many years to deal with it all. Too many years," the admiral admitted. "So, tell me, though I'm sure I remember, how do you feel about him?"_

_"Are you baiting me?"_

_"For what? A true confession? Who exactly am I going to tell? Starfleet, for goodness sakes? I'm going to be dead soon, remember?"_

_"You're terribly cynical - did you know that?" Kathryn asked._

_"Well I have you to thank for that as well. There's not all that much joy in a life lived alone, even if you can be friends with the man you loved."_

_"Loved? As in past tense?"_

_The admiral gave her a hard stare. "Why don't you tell me. How do you think I feel about him after all this time?"_

_It was actually very clear to Kathryn at that moment. "You're lying. You still love him ... I would still love him. I can't imagine ever being out of love with him. You've never gotten married, have had no relationships, no children, you stayed by his side until he died, didn't you?"_

_Again the admiral stared at her. "And if that's true, why would I come back to give him more of a future with Seven? Of course, if I hadn't miscalculated..."_

_"Because you love him. You want him to be happy."_

_"And how about you? Do you want him to be happy with Seven? Or you?"_

_Kathryn couldn't answer that question. She wasn't sure. "I...."_

_The admiral held up her hand to interrupt. "Let's start over. Let's admit that you love him, deeply, and have for at least five years. You've always dreamt of coming home and beginning a real life with him, of letting go of all the pain you've caused each other here on the ship, finally. And here I show up, to get you home now rather than later. He's just begun to date Seven. Nothing much has happened between them. We both know they've never particularly liked each other. I'm showing you what your future could be, without him. What do you want to do about it all?"_

_"You're not asking me a very easy question, I've barely begun to let myself think about the two of them together," Kathryn replied._

_"I'm not supposed to ask the easy ones. You don't, do you," the admiral said with a smile._

_"I guess I don't at that. Okay. Hypothetically?"_

_"That's the easy way out."_

_"Point taken. Okay. Non-hypothetically. As much as I want him to be happy, and as much as I want her to find out about love, I want the chance to find out if he and I could, well, give in to our feelings for one another. I think up until a few months ago, he still loved me. Until Jaffen, anyway..." Kathryn studied her hands._

_"Yes, Jaffen. Remember what you thought about that?"_

_"You mean my memories of his forehead? Or should I say what I thought I saw there?" Kathryn asked._

_The admiral smiled. "Yes. It's one of the things I regret in the small hours of the morning when sleep isn't possible. That I didn't tell Chakotay. I only allow myself that regret, say, once a year now."_

_Kathryn wanted to change the subject. Thinking about possible future regrets wasn't something she wanted to waste time with. Not now. "Getting back to the situation at hand, at least my personal situation. Am I understanding you correctly? You also came back to convince me to do something? To tell him how I feel?"_

Kathryn got up to get a cup of coffee from the replicator. She'd been surprised at the admiral's answer_. "Yes"_ was all the older woman had had time to say before they'd been hailed. Still, it was enough to give her some serious things to think about in the midst of everything else. To plan it out, to look for her opening, to contemplate the words she'd use. In those few minutes she had here and there. So far, she'd only made the most basic of plans. To stop calling him "Commander". 

She heard her console beep from the other side of the room. Maybe Harry had located Admiral Paris, she thought, as she returned to her desk. It was an internal indicator, not ops. She touched the key and was surprised when the computer asked for one of her command codes. After entering it, she was even more surprised. Her older self smiled at her. 

"Hello, Captain. I embedded this message with a command that it only be sent in the event you actually made it to the Alpha Quadrant. We never got the opportunity to finish our conversation about Chakotay, and I had one more point to make with you. It's one that I've also had many years to think about. One that I've never had the chance to find out about, or even really know the answer to. 

Please be very sure you can make him happy. You know what I'm talking about. You might need to make some changes, some basic changes. He'll be in it for the long term, giving everything. Be sure you can give everything, too. Good luck, _Kathryn_. Janeway out." 

The message ended. The emotions surging through her were just beginning. She did, indeed, know exactly what the admiral was talking about. Her relationships, those few that she had, could not be considered successful. Mark had been her best shot at permanence, up until her trip into the Badlands. And yet, they had had some serious problems that they may or may not have ever worked out. She'd never know. She was certain, however, that if they had been destined to be permanent, neither would have given up. And Chakotay would not have found a place in her heart. 

Mark often complained about her long periods away from home, her zealous dedication to her career and Starfleet. During arguments he would call her pigheaded, in more loving moments he called her strong-willed. In her mind, there really wasn't much difference between the two. And really, he was so easygoing, willing to back off whenever they'd get into it, even if he was the one starting the argument. If he was the one who was needing more from her. If he was the one who was hurt. Or disappointed. 

She ran through all the personality traits she possessed which were not conducive to a healthy, long term loving relationship. She was too stubborn. She didn't allow herself to need help, much less ask for it. The one thing she did need was to be right. Always. Or nearly always. These were things that ran through her mind whenever sleep eluded her. It depressed her to think that her insomnia didn't go away with age. That regrets, guilt, and perhaps even feelings of inadequacy stayed with her throughout her life. Though now that she knew what was at stake, maybe these _things_ could be _things_ she might change. 

Then again, she was in her mid-forties. How much can a person change at that age, she wondered. She was not nearly the blank slate that Seven was. Maybe that was what Chakotay found attractive about her. She stopped herself from going down that road, but not quite quickly enough. Her heart sank. 

She'd always thought she was the model of independence and self-confidence. That she made decisions with assuredness and strength. In this situation, she was coming to realize, she had no idea what to do. Tell him she loved him? Or let him go? 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"You know," B'Elanna said, "I understand Tom had to fly this crate through the conduits, but why weren't you at least here to help me? I mean, what good is the First Officer to operations when the only order was probably, 'Hang on!'" 

"Oh, I'm betting the orders down here would have been pretty much the same. At least on the bridge, nothing got broken," Chakotay waggled his fingers lithely. "But I do regret that we all couldn't be here for you—then, and now." 

"Yeah, well, I had expected to see you last week, too, bearing some secret tribal remedy for my screaming back pain." 

"I said I'm sorry, B'Elanna," he replied, a small grin playing on the corners of his mouth. 

"Yeah, well, maybe it's just not enough. I think you might have to give up some time and babysit or something to make up for it." B'Elanna gently lifted Miral to the large hands of her oldest friend. He took the baby and held her to his shoulder, rubbing her back with tenderness. "Besides, where the hell have you been the past couple of days? I could have used some company..." 

"So I'll say it again. I'm _sorry_ for deserting you, and missing out on the birth of this beautiful child. And I'll be happy to babysit, anytime. If you trust a man who, according to you, has had no experience with children." 

"Listen, Chakotay, I never said I didn't trust you with the baby." 

"I know. Really. I do." 

Their gazes locked for a moment. The child in question began to fuss a bit, and the hand rubbing her back began to lightly bounce her against his shoulder. The fussing stopped. 

Tom took the opportunity the lull in conversation afforded him. "Well, I for one think there's someone else you should apologize to for your recent disappearing act," he said pointedly. 

Chakotay turned his head slowly, deciding whether or not to react. He opted for neutrality. "And who's that?" 

"The captain," Tom answered. 

Neutrality was no longer an option. "And just what do you mean by _that_?" His heart was pounding a bit as he narrowed his eyes at the younger man. 

"It had to be weird for her, dealing with herself as an old woman. I'm sure she could have used a friend. To talk to. That's all." 

Chakotay breathed again. He continued to bounce the baby gently. He had to admit, he hadn't thought about what Kathryn had been going through. For that he felt a little guilty. 

"And man, seeing the two of them, together," Tom continued, "it was kind of overwhelming for us, too. Two Janeways could probably take over the world. No disrespect intended, Chakotay." 

"I'm sure you meant it as a compliment, Tom." 

"I did. On the other hand, two Janeways got us to do something that I originally had no intention of doing. I thought the risk was too great. And yet, I agreed to the plan, even though I _still_ don't entirely understand why the admiral came back _now._ I mean, why didn't she come back before Joe died? Tell us about that mission? I don't envy the captain trying to explain that to Sarah, not to mention the boys..." 

B'Elanna agreed. "I don't understand it at all, Chakotay. Not at all. From what everyone's been telling me, anyway. The latest gossip is all about the captain and the admiral. Don't get me wrong -- most everyone is thrilled to be home. They just don't understand why now. If there were these hubs all over the Delta Quadrant, we must have come close to one before this." She reached out to take her baby back. The babysitter reluctantly complied. 

He didn't know how to answer them. He came to the quick conclusion that he had been entirely too preoccupied during this _entire_ situation. He really didn't know much more than his friends, and he was supposed to be the First Officer, the captain's confidante. Instead, he'd been avoiding her. For the past few months, since Quarra, he'd been pulling back from their friendship. He'd just been feeling so _tired_. Of it all. Until Seven asked him for a date. And now, when the crew needed him, he'd been too preoccupied to pay attention to what Kathryn was up to. In thinking about it, he didn't understand it either. He knew the admiral had convinced Seven to help, scaring her with some tale of her own death, but that's all he knew. Well, enough was enough. 

"B'Elanna, Tom, you take care of your lovely daughter. I have something I need to go do. And maybe I'll be able to find out some answers for you." He smiled, leaned in and kissed the ridges on his friend's forehead, rubbed Miral's ridges for good luck and patted Tom on the shoulder. Then he turned and left sickbay, telling the lift to take him back to the bridge. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn sat under the viewports in the ready room, staring at the now cooling cup of coffee on the table in front of her. A stack of PADDs also graced the table, waiting for her review and approval, waiting to be sent to Starfleet, hurried reports from the various departments. No one was really all that prepared to be in the Alpha Quadrant. Or perhaps no one had really believed it would actually happen. She ignored the stack, opting to refresh her coffee instead. The chime rang as she was standing at the replicator. Her sixth sense regarding him was well honed. She almost called for Chakotay to enter. 

"Come in," she ordered the computer. 

The door opened and as she expected, Chakotay walked in. Still, her heart skipped to see his face, so serious, no smile gracing his chiseled features. She was surprised at the dull ache of pain that settled in her chest at the sight of him. No matter how he wanted this meeting to go, she needed it to be strictly professional. Until she made her decision, the use of rank was once again her only protection. 

"Have a seat, Commander. What can I do for you?" She noticed the slight hesitation in his forward motion at the use of his title. He came up to the couches and sat next to her, turning slightly to be able to meet her eyes directly. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Chakotay noticed immediately the rigidity of Kathryn's posture. Hearing her use his title rather than his name reminded him of when she had called him "Mister" on the bridge earlier. At the time, he thought that she had decided rank was no longer going to be an issue between them. He now wondered what was going through her mind. He had to admit, he couldn't tell. He fell back on his own agenda. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"You can answer a few questions for me," Chakotay said, laying the sentence at her feet. 

Kathryn took a moment to breathe. "Fine. Go ahead." 

"Well, I can't help feeling that there might have been another reason that the admiral came back to help us get home." 

She took another breath. "What do you mean?" 

"Why exactly was she so willing to break the Temporal Prime Directive? For that matter, why were you? Given the risks..." 

"I wanted us to get home. Sooner is better than later, don't you agree?" 

"Yes, I agree with that statement. However, it occurs to me that you were, well, very _driven_ to accomplish this. And the combination of the two of you, strong-willed, determined commanding officers, guaranteed that the goal would be reached. I just don't really understand why. It's almost as if there was some other reason to do it. At least that's how it looks in hindsight," he said, watching her face tighten at his words. 

In the past, during moments of weakness late at night in bed, she had imagined this scene many times. Arriving in the Alpha Quadrant, almost all of her dreams tangibly coming true, she had envisioned Chakotay coming to her ready room. She would tell him that they could finally be together, as she thought they both had wanted and hoped they both still did. He would be ecstatic. They would hug. And finally, finally kiss. A wondrous kiss, sweeping them both off their feet. She again thought of her conversation with her future self. Considered telling him how much she loved him, and ultimately, that that was why they had done it. Why the admiral had sacrificed everything. She wavered. _Strong-willed,_ he'd said. 

"Kathryn? Are you all right?" 

The concern in his voice was almost her undoing. She couldn't do it, she realized. She needed to let him find his happiness with Seven. She'd have to let him go. Again. For the millionth time. The ache became a stabbing pain. 

"I'm fine, Commander. There is no other reason than what I've already told you. This was the best opportunity and the admiral knew passing it by had been a mistake. She wanted to correct it. That's all. Now, if there's nothing else, I have quite a stack of reports to review as you can see." She folded her arms, leaning forward as if to rise, hoping he would pick up on her need to have the conversation end. 

"Would you like some help?" He still couldn't put his finger on it, but he was almost certain she was lying to him. 

"No, I don't need any help. You can go." 

Chakotay hesitated, but stood up, not knowing what else to say. "Very good, Captain. I'll be in my office if you should need me." 

Kathryn stood as well, nodding to him in dismissal, not trusting her voice at that moment. After he nodded in return, she swiveled to the viewports, knowing tears were forming, needing privacy to contain them. She listened to him move away, down the step toward the ready room door. She heard it open. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Chakotay walked away, trying to understand what he was missing. He approached the ready room door and it swooshed open. Standing at the threshold, he made an instant decision to try one more time to get at the truth. He felt an inexorable need to get through to her, that this was one of those all important moments he'd look back on in the future. If he didn't do more, he'd regret it. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. He turned back into the room and the door closed. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

She heard it close and let go. She stopped trying to hold back the tears as she hugged herself tightly, at once feeling as though her arms were the only things keeping her from falling over. She was having trouble breathing, finally gasping sharply. She wanted to scream. Instead, she allowed herself to voice the truth out loud, to the walls, into the room where they had spent so many thousands of hours together, her sanctuary. The place of her dreams. 

"I did it for one reason, Chakotay. Because I love you," she choked out. "I love you with everything in me and I have only one thing to show for it. An empty life ahead of me. Alone. Still in love with you..." Unable to finish, the words faltering completely, she collapsed on the couch and buried her head in her arms against the back. Vaguely wishing she were anywhere but there, she finally broke down and sobbed. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Chakotay came out of his stunned silence. He didn't know what to do, didn't understand what he had heard, couldn't believe the words that had just come out of Kathryn's mouth. He suddenly felt like an intruder and turned as quietly as he could, hoping she wouldn't hear the door work a second time. He left the ready room and went directly to his office to stare out his own viewports. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

He needn't have worried. Kathryn heard nothing but the sounds of her own sobbing. She eventually quieted enough to try and pull herself back together. Try and ignore the deep, intense pain that was now a constant in her chest. 

She headed for engineering to praise her crew, to check on the repairs to Voyager. More than ever, she needed to be reassured she could still count on her ship.   
  
  
  


_Fade out..._

  
  



	2. Future's Foundation by LauraJo

Future's Foundation Disclaimer: Paramount owns Voyager and most of the characters contained in this work of fiction. However, further characters in this piece belong to me; particularly Kessa, whom I've grown strangely fond of…   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Voyager's crew endure a period of debriefing and court hearings; and somehow, amidst the turmoil, Kathryn and Chakotay must deal with personal and professional issues as their new lives take shape.   
Author's note: With thanks to Sängerin (my legal counsel) and Kayla (now dubbed the resident 'Seven expert') for beta work; and to tayryn, without whose computer this story would have suffered significant delay, thanks for putting up with me! 

Future's Foundation   
_Copyright September 2001 by LauraJo_

Kathryn stood staring out of the view port at Earth as, behind her, most of the senior staff filed out of the briefing room. That had been it, the final meeting of the senior staff of the starship Voyager. And this was the second day in three that Kathryn had ended up on her own in this room, with tears welling in her eyes, thinking over what had just happened. 

Two days ago it had been the shock of gaining a namesake, Miral Kathryn. She felt deeply honoured and moved by the gesture, and had even shed a few tears as soon as she had been alone. It said a lot. It said that, amongst all the bad calls, all the unpopular decisions she had made along the way, she had done something right. She had stood by her crew, always done what she considered to be the best thing for them. She had loved each and every last one of them, considered them family. She had hoped that they had felt even half of the same affection for her. 

Now she felt that maybe, just maybe, she had proof that they did. And whatever was thrown at them over the next few months, they would handle it together. 

That was something to hold onto. 

It was something she held onto as she followed her crew, her friends and her family, to the bridge. 

It was something she held onto as she ordered her ship to dock at their final destination. 

Earth. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Hours later Kathryn walked the last few hundred metres to her mother's house. She didn't care how late it was, or how early she had to be back at HQ in the morning, she needed to see her mother. 

From the moment Tom had safely flown them through the gates into space dock events had taken a decidedly chaotic turn. The former Maquis members of her crew had been carted off – she had yet to determine where – and the 'Starfleet originals' had been summoned for the beginning of an intensive debriefing. Kathryn had felt a physical pain in her chest as Chakotay had been torn from his seat beside her on the bridge. 

Daylight had long since disappeared by the time the captain's superiors let her go. Her mother might very well be in bed already, but Kathryn figured she wouldn't mind being woken up. After all, it had been seven years since she had last held a proper conversation with her elder daughter. Despite the advent of two-way communication towards the end of their journey Kathryn's turn on the link-up had never come around. Then, once they were travelling those last two days back to Earth, Kathryn had ended up spending what little off-duty time she had visiting or helping out other crewmembers. All she had had time to do as far as her mother was concerned was to send a quickly recorded message to find out if she was at home, or if, like some relatives, she had made the journey to San Francisco. 

Her mother hadn't made the trip, rightly pointing out that a transporter would get her from Indiana to Starfleet Headquarters in the blink of an eye; sometimes her mother made a lot of sense. So now Kathryn entered the family home to find it in darkness. But not silence. The sound of scampering feet could be heard on the wooden floors, getting closer and closer to Kathryn's position by the kitchen door. Then around the corner came a large dog, moving as fast as her legs could carry her. The scattering of grey on her ears and muzzle belied her puppyish turn of speed, revealing her advanced years. She skidded to a halt in front of Kathryn, eyeing her suspiciously 

"Molly!" Kathryn cried, "Molly, is that you?!" Kathryn dropped her bags to the floor and approached the now barking dog, who had been stunned by this strange woman's sudden outburst. Kathryn started to stroke Molly as soon as she could get close enough. Although Molly was wary she was unable to run away, so instead stayed where she was, eventually warming to the tender actions of the owner she no longer remembered. 

Molly's barking had woken Kathryn's mother, who now came running into the kitchen to find her daughter. 

"Kathryn! You're here..." Molly was instantly forgotten as Kathryn moved across to her mother and fell into her arms. 

"Yes, Mom, I'm home. It's so good to see you." 

"It's good to see you too, honey. It's been too long." Gretchen paused, having a little difficulty finding her words amongst all the emotions swirling inside her. "I assumed you wouldn't be able to come home tonight, 'fleet officials told us you'd all be staying in quarters at HQ for the time being." 

Kathryn pulled out of the embrace so that she could look at her mother as she spoke. "We are, but I had to come and see you. I'll have to leave early tomorrow morning to get back there." 

"You are allowed to be here, aren't you?" Kathryn's mother was suddenly worried that her daughter had slipped some kind of security measures in order to come by and visit. 

"No one's going to stop me, I'm not under arrest. I can move about as I like, they just want us there working almost every hour of the day." 

"Can't they give you all some time off first?" 

"No, and I think I'm one of the lucky ones. I get the impression some of my crew will not be able to come and go so freely." 

"Why not?" 

"Starfleet Security escorted the former Maquis from my ship, Mom. They dragged them off as though we had just brought them into custody as ordered, as if the last seven years hadn't happened. I still don't know who was behind it, but when I find out, they are going to pay for what they did. Until then, I'm helpless, Mom, and I can't stand it!" 

Kathryn was getting more distressed as she spoke, so Gretchen pulled her into her arms again. 

"Hey, it's okay. You'll do something as soon as you're able to, and I'm sure your friends know that. Anyway, I don't think anything Starfleet does will stand in the way of them meeting some of their families again; from what I've heard the waiting areas provided for relatives have been bustling with people day and night since you burst back into the quadrant two days ago!" 

Letting out a small chuckle at her mother's choice of words, Kathryn replied, "Well, we had to make an entrance after seven years away from home." 

"You certainly did, my dear. I'd like to see anyone argue with that." There was a brief silence before Gretchen brought up something that had been on her mind, her speech a little hesitant as though she was afraid of the answer her daughter might give. "Kathryn, I was wondering if you could answer something for me. I've been worried about Owen; he's been so nervous about seeing Tom again – how do you think that will go?" 

"Tom and his father already spoke." 

"What? How? When?!" Gretchen Janeway was more than a little shocked. 

"Let's just say it was a little... unorthodox. I'm not even supposed to know about it; but I think they managed to come out of it all right. At any rate, Tom wasn't a quivering wreck as he flew us into space dock. Probably a good thing, crashing Voyager that late in the game would have taken the edge off our victorious homecoming!" 

The two Janeway women shared a giggle as they finally made their way to the living room to sit down. They chatted into the early hours of the morning, catching up on all the news that they hadn't been able to share via the data stream; things that were either too small to warrant taking up limited space, or too big to do them justice with words alone. 

Gretchen occasionally got the feeling that Kathryn was holding something back, but there was plenty of time to figure out what it was. She had her daughter back, and for now that was more than she could have hoped for. Gretchen believed in Starfleet, believed in the work they did, but there had been too many times when she had been forced to count the cost that they had wreaked on her life. They had taken her husband, her daughter's first fiancé, and then finally Kathryn herself. She had a feeling they weren't finished with Kathryn yet, either. But so long as they left her close by, Gretchen would cope, and she would be happy. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Captain Kathryn Janeway   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 54997.3   
Subject: Meeting 

Please report to my office at 0800 hours tomorrow. Acknowledgement of receipt of this order is required. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn sent her acknowledgement of the message she found on return to her temporary quarters at HQ barely seconds before her door chime announced the presence of a visitor. Calling for them to enter, she jumped to attention when Admiral Paris walked through her doors. 

"Admiral, please come in. Take a seat." 

Owen Paris made his way over to the small seating area and took the chair to Kathryn's left, waiting for Kathryn to retake her seat before he spoke. He leapt straight to the point. 

"Kathryn, I'm assuming you got the message about your meeting tomorrow. I'm here with a friendly warning as to how to conduct yourself." Kathryn started to open her mouth in protest at the idea that she would conduct herself in anything less than the correct manner, but Owen raised a hand to stop her before she could start. "I know you Kathryn, don't forget that. You aren't going to be happy with what Admiral Muir has to say to you, and I don't want you shooting your mouth off and hitting your foot in the process." 

"Okay, I'm listening. What is it I'm not going to like?" 

"I'm assuming you've realised your actions from the last seven years are going to be closely scrutinised." 

Kathryn looked slightly uncomfortable, though it was only visible to Admiral Paris because he had known her for so long. 

"I had some idea of that, yes. I'm ready to stand by my decisions." 

"I'm sure you are. The first thing I want to tell you is not to be concerned about the outcome of the examination – the result of the hearing planned for you is already decided." 

"What do you mean?" If he hadn't had it before, Admiral Paris certainly had Kathryn's full attention now. 

"I mean that there's no way they are going to taint the image of the heroic captain. The Federation needs heroes right now, and you burst back onto the scene in a manner that couldn't escape the notice of anyone with eyes and ears in this quadrant and beyond. Starfleet aren't stupid; to publicly criticise your conduct over the last few years in any way would be to commit a kind of PR suicide." 

"I'm waiting for a 'but' – you said I wasn't going to like what Admiral Muir was going to say." 

"You never were the patient kind." 

"It's not always a virtue, not in this business." 

"Not the way you play it, no." 

"Owen…" 

"Okay, I'll get to the point. The former Maquis members of your crew are unlikely to be as lucky. They are all to be tried by the civilian courts, a result of the warrants existing for their arrest since before Voyager and the Liberty were taken. From what I've heard, the charges are likely to stick." 

"What? I'll have to see about that…" 

"Kathryn, no. That's what I wanted to warn you about. Admiral Muir is going to order you not to get involved in their trials." 

"He can order me all he likes…" 

"Captain!" Owen's calling her by rank stopped Kathryn in her tracks. "This is for their own good. The prosecution aren't pushing for heavy sentences, they know as well as anyone nowadays that the Maquis had the jump on us as far as the Cardassians were concerned. They are willing to agree to minimal sentences, but only if it's seen to be their own idea. Pressure them in any way, and they could go for longer custodial sentences just to save face." 

"_Longer_ custodial sentences? You said _longer _– that implies they'll get custodial sentences as it is. I can't let that happen…" 

"Kathryn, trust me on this will you? Don't get involved." 

Kathryn considered the look on her old mentor's face. It was a plea, a personal one. For the first time in the conversation it occurred to her that Owen actually had some personal interest in this matter; after all, his daughter-in-law was one of the very people Kathryn had set her heart on fighting for. At that moment she made a silent pledge to herself. She would fight; she would keep an eye on her crew and do whatever was in her power to keep them out of a prison cell, and hell, to prevent their convictions if at all possible. But she would do it as inconspicuously as she could. She knew the system; she knew she could work it without most people even suspecting what she was up to. And as much as it tore at her heart to do so, she could do it whilst lying to Owen Paris – her superior officer, and her friend. 

"I understand, Owen. Thanks for the warning." 

"So I have your word you won't try anything stupid, Kathryn?" 

"You have my word." 

Kathryn was only able to hold the admiral's eye for the briefest of moments before glancing away, a knot forming in her stomach. It was for his own good, she told herself. For his own good. 

So why did she feel so damned guilty? 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

At 0755 the following morning Kathryn ran up the stairs to Admiral Muir's office, well aware that she shouldn't have had that last coffee before she left. It wasn't as if the stuff was on short supply anymore. There was no excuse for grabbing a cup every time the opportunity presented itself – especially when doing so resulted in a frantic dash across the grounds of HQ to avoid being late for your first official meeting with a superior officer in seven years. 

Reaching the fourth floor, where she had been informed she would find the admiral's office, Kathryn stopped to catch her breath. She hoped no one had taken enough notice to realise who she was as she had run, her reputation would be in tatters by noon. Once her breathing rate had slowed to a steady fourteen per minute – a textbook example of normality – she carried on towards her final destination. 

Outside the door bearing Admiral Muir's name sat a young-looking male lieutenant, uniform starched and desk immaculately organised. As Kathryn approached him he glanced up from his monitor and nodded his head in acknowledgement of her rank. He then took a peek at his watch before addressing her. 

"Captain Janeway?" 

_What, didn't he watch the news broadcasts?_ Janeway thought, _surely my face has been plastered all over the media by now._ However, she answered politely and correctly. "Yes, that's me." 

"Please go on through, the admiral has been waiting for you." 

That wasn't precisely what Kathryn had been hoping to hear. It was always best to arrive before your seniors are ready, never let them have the opportunity to blame you for wasted time in their day. She was sure her own crew had had the same philosophy concerning her on many an occasion. It was too late to worry about that now though, so she hit the door chime and entered when told. 

As the door closed behind her Admiral Muir rose to his feet. He was your fairly average type of admiral, she might even have gone so far as to say stereotypical. His hair was mostly grey, but there were wisps of the dark brown colour it had once been speckled throughout. His height approached six feet, and his build was just slightly above what would be considered a healthy size for his age – a hazard of spending most of your day behind a desk. He extended his hand to Kathryn as he addressed her. 

"Captain Janeway, good to finally meet you." 

"Sir," Kathryn said, as she shook his hand. His grip was firm, another feature typical of your average Starfleet brass. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long." Kathryn almost cringed as she said it. Talk about licking the boss's boots; she was definitely out of practice at this game. 

"Not at all, I was just catching up on my messages. Please, take a seat." He indicated to the only other chair in the room, as if Kathryn couldn't work out where she was supposed to go. No, she corrected herself; he was just being polite, courteous. Yes, she was definitely out of practice, and had lost far too much respect for her superiors over the years. She took her seat and patiently waited for him to begin. 

"First of all, I want to welcome you home. I can't begin to imagine how it must feel for you after all this time away from the familiar. It must be a real comfort to slip back into the old routine." 

Did he even have a clue what he was talking about? Kathryn remained silent. 

"But on with the real business. Later today I will be sending out a notice to all of Voyager's crewmembers outlining what will be happening now you're all back on Earth. I wanted to personally inform you of what to expect. 

"I'm sure you have already realised that there will be an intensive debriefing for all of you, particularly the senior officers. There will also be a full review of all disciplinary action taken by you whilst you were away from us. I have every confidence that you dealt with matters that arose in the proper way, but please understand that we did not have the opportunity to read reports on these matters at the appropriate times – at least, not until we established direct communication. So, if we seem to be picking your decisions apart it probably has more to do with the fact that we are reviewing everything at once than any implication of poor judgement on your behalf." 

"Yes, Sir," Kathryn replied, although her inner thoughts were not quite so agreeable. 

"Furthermore, I have no doubt you'll have realised by now that warrants are still in existence for the arrest of the Maquis." 

"_Former_ Maquis," Kathryn interrupted, "and of course I noticed them being escorted off my ship like common criminals." 

"According to the law, they _are_ common criminals." 

"Not until they are found guilty by the courts." 

Admiral Muir's suspicions about the need for this meeting were becoming more justified by the second. Most captains would fight tooth and nail for their own people, and he had heard that Janeway was about as ferocious a fighter as they came, but he hadn't fully submitted to that train of thought until now. "Captain, please be under no illusions on that matter. I have spoken to the civilian authorities personally – with the evidence they have, there is no doubt about the convictions. They _will_ happen." 

Kathryn remained silent, so the admiral continued. 

"Which brings me to my next point. I have no doubt that plans have been forming in your mind, ideas which you believe would help to exonerate your crew of any wrong doing. I am hereby ordering you not to interfere in this process in any way. If you are found to ignore these orders at any time, it could reflect badly come the time for your own performance review. I hope you understand how serious that could be, the impact it could have on your own future career." 

"Yes, Sir," Kathryn replied, all the while realising Owen had known what he was doing when he came to talk to her about this. He knew as well as anyone that threatening her own career would never stop her trying to protect those under her command, something Admiral Muir had obviously yet to learn. 

"Okay," continued Muir, "on to other matters. I realise that you have been transmitting reports from Voyager for a few years now, but to be frank we have had little time to deal with them in the throes and aftermath of the war with the Dominion. We always figured we'd have some warning of your return, and would be able to review the files in plenty of time. Needless to say, we got that wrong." 

Kathryn couldn't help but smile. There was nothing quite like keeping your superiors on their toes. Her smile quickly faded at the admiral's next words. 

"So, we would like you to review your official logs from the past seven years and identify those that require our attention. We don't need to see piles of routine reports; as many adventures as you had, I'm sure there were times when you simply pointed towards home and went merrily on your way. I'm not going to waste anybody's time reading about the daily monotony of running a starship, we all learnt about that at the Academy. What we want to see is how you dealt with the big events; first contacts, encounters with the Borg, with Q, anything that could have a long-term effect on Starfleet and the Federation. 

"I know this is a big task, but no one knows Voyager's logs better than you. Unfortunately I can't assign any of your crew to assist you, so you'll be getting an aide. She's straight out of the Academy, and comes highly recommended. I'm also assigning you a temporary office to work from; you can collect the details from Lieutenant Collins on your way out. Any questions?" 

"Just the one, Sir. You mentioned my own review – could you give me some idea of when I can expect that to take place?" 

"The most I can tell you is that your review is the last on our schedule." 

_Typical_, Kathryn thought. _Save the best until last_. It didn't take much to see that this also meant they could keep an eye on her throughout the Maquis trials before looking at her own conduct. They were going to be watching her closely, she was definitely going to have to be careful. "Is that all, Admiral?" 

"Yes, Captain, that will be all for now. You're dismissed." 

Kathryn rose and nodded her acknowledgement before leaving the office, collecting a PADD from the lieutenant on her way past. She would find her temporary workspace on another occasion, for now she had more important matters to deal with. At a pace more suited to her rank than that she had adopted earlier, she headed back across the grounds to her quarters. She had calls to make. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: All Voyager crewmembers   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55001.8   
Subject: Information regarding the upcoming proceedings. 

All crewmembers will be asked to report to Commodores Salada and Ducci for debriefing. Security will be alerted as to who is to attend each day and will escort you to the correct location. 

The crew of the Maquis ship 'Liberty' will be tried under warrants held for their arrest by the Federation. Their cases will be heard in front of a judge only – no jury option is being given due to the belief that no members of the public remain neutral enough to make an unbiased decision in the wake of the war with the Dominion. The crewmembers in question will not be allowed to leave the grounds of Starfleet Headquarters except for transport to their trial, at which point they will be escorted from the premises by a member of Starfleet Security. 

All reprimands, promotions and commendations from Voyager's seven-year mission will be reviewed, and notice of any changes will be made at such time as the decision is made. These cases may require crewmembers to attend interview. 

The actions and decisions of all officers will also be reviewed. Notice of any resulting action will not be a matter of public record. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Commodore Ducci   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55001.9   
Subject: Seven of Nine 

The borg Seven of Nine has been taken to a secure facility pending investigation into any possible threat to the security of the Federation. Please conduct interviews with her and relevant medical personnel with the aim of determining the level of any such threat, and a recommended course of action from this point. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Chakotay sat and fiddled with the new-style security bracelet around his wrist. The latest in electronic tagging technology; smaller than the old anklets, and by all accounts less open to tampering. Each and every one of the ex-Maquis crew sported his or her very own 'fashion accessory'; even Tom had himself his very own. Yes, it seemed they were indeed 'all the rage'. 

Voyager's crewmembers were mostly housed in temporary quarters within the grounds of Starfleet HQ. For some it was a voluntary measure, a stopgap until they got themselves a more permanent base. For others, there had been no choice. Tags prevented them from leaving the grounds, giving them free reign of only the unrestricted areas of the facility. Chakotay supposed it could have been worse – a cell in a Cardassian prison would certainly have made this place seem like a luxury hotel – but he still couldn't help but be slightly resentful about the loss of freedom. The Maquis were housed awaiting trial in the civilian courts, a result of the warrants that had existed for their arrest before they had been tossed halfway across the galaxy. Starfleet had arranged with the appropriate civilian authorities to have the Voyager crewmembers housed on Starfleet property. The state had been only too happy to oblige – they hadn't the room to house that many prisoners at short notice, and this saved them a huge administrative headache. 

Tom was the exception to the rule amongst the detainees. He was awaiting a decision from the parole-board as to whether his sentence had been served as time aboard Voyager. The date for his hearing was expected to be one of the first to be announced, but until such time he was being treated in much the same way as the Maquis. 

Chakotay had to admit that Starfleet had done them a favour when it arranged to take charge of their custody. Friends and families had been allowed to stay together; most importantly, Tom and B'Elanna had not been separated. The first few weeks were important for a child to bond with its parents, and Chakotay would have fought hard and long to get his friends back together if anyone had tried to separate them. He wasn't sure how much clout he would have had from his current position, but he did at least know he'd have had a powerful ally in Admiral Paris. 

Looking out of his window to the courtyards below, Chakotay could see most of Voyager's crew roaming around in the spring sunshine. As he observed them, he realised he was the only member of his own former crew still wearing a Starfleet uniform. Even Voyager's original crew had mostly reverted to whatever clothes they wore during their downtime at every given opportunity, only sporting the garments of their chosen profession when they were needed for debriefing. It was too early for any of the legal proceedings to have begun, so no one had been required to dress for that particular occasion just yet. 

He started to wonder why he hadn't changed, and even on noticing the situation still felt no particular inclination to do so. Maybe he felt a need to retain some connection with Starfleet right now, as if it would do him some good in the weeks and months to come. It may also be wise not to wear anything that made him look, and feel, more like a Maquis. If he connected too much with that not-so-distant past there was a high likelihood he would do something he'd later regret, and for once, he really did like the idea of living for the future. 

Noticing B'Elanna getting particularly worked up about something as she tried to juggle Miral and whatever Harry was talking to her about, Chakotay decided to go out and join them. Some things hadn't changed since they had set foot back on Earth, and the crew's ingrained tendency to look out for one another was most definitely as strong as ever. As he worked his way outside to take care of this particular potential bomb, Chakotay chuckled to himself. He hoped that, amongst all the changes they were being forced to endure, this particular aspect of their unique situation remained unchanged; the closeness of this crew was something that couldn't be replicated. Only time would tell if he would get his wish. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn looked around the meagre office space she had been assigned and sighed. She knew she shouldn't be picky, but this place was a tenth of the size of her ready room back on Voyager. There was barely enough room for the two desks it contained, small ones at that, placed right next to each other – hopefully, her aide was going to be easy to live with. Or should that be, live on top of. 

Right on cue the door chime sounded, and on Kathryn's command, in shuffled what she had to assume was her assistant. Female, a few inches taller than Kathryn despite Kathryn's three-inch heels, and with long black hair tightly wound up into a twist on the back of her head. It reminded Kathryn a little of the look she herself used to sport, only somehow it looked even worse. 

"Ensign Kessamyn Feho reporting for duty, Sir!" After her obviously nervous shuffle into the room, Ensign Feho now stood so stiff she looked as though she had a steel rod stuffed up her behind. Forget the risk of spraining something; Kathryn felt that if she were to push her, the ensign would topple onto the ground and shatter on impact. 

"At ease, Ensign." Feho relaxed a little, but still looked somewhat starched. "And please, call me Captain. I never liked to be called 'Sir'." 

"Yes Ma'am." Kathryn only sighed. She'd been here before; only something told her this time was going to be more of a battle. Harry had been green, but he learned pretty quickly. Maybe she had formed an opinion too hastily, but Ensign Feho wasn't living up to her expectations. It was almost enlightening to find that officers did exist who were greener than Harry was back then. Almost. 

"Take a seat, Kessamyn." 

Feho sat down where Kathryn indicated, before hesitantly starting to speak. "Umm, Captain, I prefer not to be called Kessamyn." 

"What would you prefer?" 

"My friends call me Kes or Kessa." 

"Kessa it is then." Kathryn was _not_ going to call this poor excuse for an officer by the first of the two given options; it would be an insult to every memory she cherished of a dear friend, and nothing in the world would force her to knowingly taint the image of the young Ocampan, now so many light years away. 

"Ensign, you understand that you are here to help me organise Voyager's logs for review?" 

"Yes Ma'am." Again with the ma'am. Kathryn would definitely have to sort that out later. 

"Well, I feel I should let you know that I will often expect you to get on with that work alone. You will find that the logs are already well organised and more than ready for review, all you will be required to do is sift out the everyday monotony from the more 'exciting' episodes in our journey. I'm afraid I have many other matters to attend to in the coming weeks, so I won't be working with you as much as you may have been led to believe." 

Kessa looked slightly confused at this. "If I may ask, Captain, what is it that will have you so occupied?" 

"It's personal, and something I'd prefer to keep under wraps." Softening her voice slightly, Kathryn added, "I hope you understand." Unwilling to explain to her new aide that, whilst she was officially supposed to be doing just what her superiors had implied she would actually be doing nothing of the sort, Kathryn resorted to a little white lie to extricate herself. Maybe not so much of a white lie, as a bending of the truth; after all, the fate of her Maquis crewmembers _was_ personal. 

Luckily, Ensign Feho was still green enough that the thought of questioning her superior didn't even enter her mind. However, Kessa's easy acceptance didn't stop Janeway from wishing that Tuvok hadn't had to go straight to Vulcan. If he had been with her, she wouldn't have needed the aide; and she would have been able to work openly in her own office instead of planning how she could access restricted information and bypass security codes without gaining the attention of an unwanted, and unwelcome, foreign pair of eyes. 

Quickly suggesting to Kessa that they get to work, and ordering her to spend some time familiarising herself with Voyager's crew manifest, Kathryn settled down at her new desk. She was still finding it hard to believe that Starfleet were handling things the way they were. 

For seven years she had upheld Starfleet principles to a crew that would have been just as happy with a slightly less structured hierarchy. She had reminded them time and again that they were part of a bigger group, that they were representing the Federation in the Delta Quadrant and that they should be proud to uphold Starfleet's standards and ideals. She had been proud to remain part of the organisation she felt she had been born into, and had been proud of the way her crew had remained loyal to both her and the uniform. 

She had assumed Starfleet would be proud of what they had achieved, would have celebrated the successes of the crew along the way home. Of course, she had expected a full and heavy debrief, but she had expected some kind of celebration first. Instead, there had been no reprieve whatsoever. 

The doctor had been forced to commence his own battle before even leaving the ship, and Kathryn was grateful that she was being allowed to fight publicly on his behalf. At least one member of her crew would know she was still in their corner. 

Looking around her excuse for an office, Kathryn considered that this had to be one of the low points of her career. She had given Starfleet more of her life these last seven years than they could ever have asked for, and now she had been given one of the worst tasks she thought they could have found for her. Separated from those she felt could have best helped her through, the ones who would have pointed out all the good things she did whilst on Voyager, the ones who had always stood by her no matter what. She found herself wondering, not for the first time, whether all her many personal sacrifices through the years had been worth it. Whether they had or they hadn't, one thing she knew for sure. 

Life seemed to enjoy throwing things at her these days. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Admiral Muir   
From: Commodore Salada   
Stardate: 55003.9   
Subject: New information re: selected Maquis crewmen   
Attachment: Release list 

I was informed today that selected members of the Liberty's former crew will not stand trial in the civilian courts. These crewmen were not implicated in any Maquis activities before their removal to the Delta Quadrant, therefore no warrant exists for their arrest and no charges have been filed against them. Any good trial lawyer could clear them of charges based solely on their presence on the Liberty, so the prosecuting authorities deemed it best that no action be taken. I hereby request authority to release those listed in the attached file. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Commodore Salada   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55004.6   
Subject: Release of crewmembers 

Authority is hereby granted for the release of those crewmembers listed in the document I received from you. Please liase with them regarding future assignments or resignation from Starfleet and report back to me as necessary. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The doors to Commodore Salada's office opened to admit Crewman Gerron, the last crewmember on his list of interviewees following the 'no charges' decision made only days earlier. He already knew what Gerron's hopes were – the young man wished to enter the Academy, and Salada was pleased that on this occasion he had good news to report. 

"Crewman, please take a seat." The commodore gestured towards a chair without ever leaving his own. 

"Thank you, Sir." Gerron was dressed smartly in his old-style Starfleet uniform from Voyager. The Starfleet members of Voyager's crew had already received orders to replicate themselves uniforms in the updated style, but those who had been Maquis had continued to wear the ones they had already had for official business. Gerron was actually more than happy with that situation. After all, part of the appeal of attending the Academy was the chance to earn the right to wear those colours with pride. It took some of the edge off if you had already sampled the winnings, so he was happy to keep his old clothes and wait for the 'upgrade'. 

Commodore Salada had wondered at first why Mr Gerron had wished to enter the Academy, considering a decision had already been made that all Maquis crewmen, in the absence of custodial sentences, would be offered the choice to remain in Starfleet in the rank and career area they had occupied on Voyager. They may not have graduated the Academy, but they had all proved themselves skilled at their jobs and, on Voyager, had shown that they could live within Starfleet's rules, regulations, and protocols. 

As much as their captain had, anyway. 

Maybe more so. 

However, the commodore had since come to realise that simply working for Starfleet wasn't enough for Gerron anymore; he wished to become an officer. To do this, he did require formal academy training, and if he was willing to go back into education then Salada took it as a sign that he had the will and the stamina to see it through. It was a brave decision, from a promising young individual. The admissions board had agreed. 

So now Gerron would be on his way, and the commodore was grateful for the chance to send him off. 

"Crewman, I'm happy to be able to tell you that your application has been accepted." He waited a beat for the news to sink in before he continued. "Due to your previous experience the board approved an accelerated placement – you will start at third year level at the beginning of the next academic year, giving you plenty of time to rest and prepare. In the mean time, you will receive the same leave benefits that the rest of your crew will be entitled to. Do you have any questions, Cadet?" 

Caught a little off guard by the new title, but enjoying it at the same time, Gerron couldn't have come up with a question even if paid to try and do so. Instead, he answered in the negative, and took his leave. 

The meeting had been short and simple, but it left Salada with a greater feeling of satisfaction than any other meeting he had attended in the past month. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Recipients not disclosed   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55010.2   
Subject: Authorised leave 

I trust your future career decisions have been dealt with to your satisfaction and extend my best wishes to you in whatever path you have chosen to pursue. Please be advised that before you move on to whatever awaits you, you are entitled to thirty days' leave, paid at a rate appropriate to your position on Voyager. If necessary, arrangements with your new employers can be made through this office. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Lt. Thomas E. Paris   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55011.9   
Subject: Parole hearing 

Please be informed that your parole-board hearing has been scheduled for stardate 55020.2, at 0900 hours. Legal representation is available to you upon your request. If you have any queries about this process, please do not hesitate to contact me at this office. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The chronometer showed 0915 as Tom reappeared, catching B'Elanna and Chakotay by surprise. They had been sitting in the corridors of Starfleet HQ, waiting whilst Tom's parole hearing was taking place behind closed doors. And now he was out, barely fifteen minutes after he had gone in. B'Elanna started to worry that the only way it could have been that quick was if something had gone wrong. Tom's next words allayed her fears. 

"It's over. I'm still a lieutenant. I still have a job." 

That was all he said before gathering B'Elanna close, leaving her just enough time to hand Miral off to Chakotay. Tom had been worried, more than he had let on to anyone. He had responsibilities these days, and the thought of being a jailbird Dad had not been a pleasant one. Thankfully, it was something he at least didn't have to contemplate anymore. 

In the end, the procedure had been ridiculously simple. His original deal with Janeway had involved help at his next parole hearing, and that had been only for aiding them in the retrieval of the Maquis ship. One mission, successfully completed, and the favour would be returned. 

He had never completed that mission, not in the way originally intended, but he had done more. So much more. He had spent seven years as a bridge officer on a starship, serving his captain honestly and faithfully. Yes, he had strayed once or twice along the way, bent and broken more than a few rules, but overall he had been a good officer. He had proved himself capable of starting again, and the parole officers had recognised the new man, one whom many colleagues would trust with their lives and with the lives of their families. The board had recognised the change in Tom Paris, and they had declared him free. 

So now his sentence was considered fully served, and only one thing stood between him and the life he wanted to live with his wife and child. B'Elanna had yet to hear from the authorities with a trial date. The wait had been frustrating for her. He knew that she wanted to be with the crews working on Voyager, preventing them from hurting what she had long since considered her ship. Well, maybe the ship was Janeway's; but the engines were B'Elanna's. She did what she could with the restricted access she had from HQ, but whilst it was something, it wasn't enough. Tom longed for the day when both he and his wife would be free. When, not if. 

Chakotay could sense the direction Tom's thoughts were taking, and decided that this was not a time for worrying about the future. Placing Miral back into B'Elanna's care, and taking one of his friends' arms in each of his, he started to march them outside. Today was a day for celebration – the first court result of any kind to come through, and it was a good result. With any luck, it would be the first of many. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

May 20th. 

Twelve days since their emergence from the conduit. 

Ten days since they finally set foot on Earth. 

And Kathryn Janeway's 47th birthday. 

As Kathryn hauled her heavy bags up the stairs she mused over how she really shouldn't be moving back in with her mother at this age. However, the quarters she had been assigned at HQ were driving her slowly crazy. It was funny, the regulation furniture and fittings in her quarters on Voyager had never really bothered her that much, but now that she was home she was finding it unbearable to spend all day, everyday staring at those bland colours. 

Of course, there had been a time she had had her own home on Earth, a modern apartment in one of the nicer areas of San Francisco. Unfortunately, this was no longer the case. Her lease had been terminated within a year of Voyager's disappearance, and her things put into storage by her mother and sister. She was only grateful that they hadn't seen fit to throw away any of her belongings in an effort to grieve for the second member of their family to be lost to Starfleet. 

So now Kathryn was bringing a few special items back here in an effort to make her room her own. The bag she carried contained a mixture of the new and the old, items from before her time on Voyager and those picked up along the way home. One of the first items she placed on her dresser was the piece of rock with the crystal vein, the one she had pulled out of her desk not two weeks ago. Next came the necklace she had been given by Caylem, the eccentric but endearing man who had mistaken Kathryn for his daughter near the beginning of their journey. Kathryn briefly wondered why she had never worn the necklace since, and resolved to correct that oversight as soon as an appropriate occasion arose. 

More and more followed as slowly every surface in her room was covered with various knickknacks, each one of them with a special meaning to her. Satisfied with her work, she made her way back down to the kitchen where her mother was making coffee and brownies. 

"Happy birthday, honey," Gretchen spoke as soon as she became aware of her elder daughter's presence. "The coffee's nearly ready. Did you get your room sorted out okay?" 

"Yes, I think so. It looks a lot less bare now." 

"I'm glad. I remember what those quarters at HQ are like from my early days with your father. We hadn't found a place of our own yet so we lived there for a few weeks." 

"Only weeks?" 

"Yes, obviously I couldn't stand them any more than you. It gave me the extra nudge to find somewhere permanent, which was when I found this little gem." Gretchen handed a cup of the now poured coffee to Kathryn, then cradled her own in her hands. For a moment Kathryn wasn't sure whether her mother had been referring to the house or the coffee when she spoke of the 'little gem'. 

"It's a shame I don't have my apartment anymore, then I wouldn't have to impose on you while I get myself sorted out." 

"Don't be silly, Kathryn! You will always be welcome here, you and Phoebe. Don't let anyone ever tell you that this isn't your home. It's your home whenever you need it." 

Kathryn smiled at her mother and took a sip of her coffee. "Thanks, Mom. No offence, but I still hope I don't have to stay here too long." 

"No offence taken, I know you want your own space. So, any plans for your birthday? Do you have to work again today?" 

"I'm not going anywhere near San Francisco unless they threaten me with a spread of photon torpedoes aimed at this house. As far as they're concerned I'm 'in a meeting' all day." 

"Really? I don't remember the last time you took the day off for something as 'trivial' as your birthday." 

"Mom, I haven't been able to truly take a day off for seven years. I figured today was as good a day as any." 

Gretchen allowed herself a giggle at her daughter's expense. It wouldn't surprise her if, after this year, Kathryn went another seven years without taking a day off on her birthday, but she kept that thought to herself. 

"So," Kathryn continued, "are those brownies ready yet?" 

"No, you'll have to wait a while. You can have one at lunchtime, and not before. Phoebe and the twins are coming round." 

"You mean I finally get to meet Kym and Ashley?!" 

"Yes, and they've been dying to meet their Auntie Kathryn." 

"Oh no, I will not have them call me Auntie, it makes me feel so old! Kathryn, it has to be just Kathryn." 

"We'll see. Remember, they're only three, so you may have to put up with them calling you whatever they can manage to say!" 

"True, but that also means they are still young enough to be moulded into calling me anything I choose in the long run." 

"Like Captain?!" 

"So long as it's not Auntie. Or ma'am." Gretchen shared a grin with Kathryn; she knew just how much her daughter hated to be called ma'am by her subordinates. She'd also heard tales about Ensign Feho, who even after a week still hadn't learned what was good for her in that respect. "I take it from what you said that Adam isn't coming today?" Kathryn asked. 

"No, Phoebe said he had to go and talk to his publisher, and they wouldn't change the date of his meeting 'no matter how famous his sister-in-law was'. You'll have to wait and meet him another day." 

"That's a shame. I'm sure the twins will keep me occupied though!" 

"Are you expecting to hear from any of your crew?" 

Kathryn's face faltered a little at the mention of her friends from Voyager, and her mind couldn't help but run to Chakotay. She wasn't expecting to hear from any of them; she expected they felt a little abandoned, and she honestly couldn't blame them for that. It wasn't as if she had made any effort to contact them. She felt that, seeing as she was having to keep her work on their behalf strictly under wraps, it would be better for all concerned if she kept completely out of their way. If she didn't talk to them, she couldn't let any reassuring morsels of information slip. So she was keeping her distance. 

Not speaking to Chakotay though... that would be the hardest part. Forgetting about the situation with Seven for a moment, if that were possible, he was still her best friend. He had been there for her every birthday for years now, forcing her to acknowledge it even when she hadn't wanted to. She remembered one year he had taken her to Paris for the evening via the holodeck. They had strolled along the bank of the Seine before stopping for a meal at one of the nicest restaurants in the city. She had felt so relaxed that evening, and had come perhaps the closest since New Earth to finally letting down her barriers and accepting him into her life in every way. How different would things have been now if she had... Would they even be home right now? 

_"Am I understanding you correctly? You also came back to convince me to do something? To tell him how I feel?".... "Yes"_

Kathryn shook off the memories of her conversation with the admiral and turned her concentration back to her mother. 

"I don't think I'll be hearing from any of them; everyone's pretty busy with the debriefings and legal proceedings. I'll catch up with them sooner or later." 

Gretchen wasn't fooled by her daughter's forced lightness. She knew Kathryn had to be hurting from the separation, but she let it go. "That's a shame. I tell you what, why don't you go and take a long bath? I can finish up here ready for your sister to arrive; you go and relax." 

"Okay, thanks, Mom." So Kathryn got up and headed for the bathroom, leaving her mother to her brownies, and still trying not to think about the admiral, Chakotay or Seven. She didn't do as well as she would have liked. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

May 20th. 

Twelve days since their emergence from the conduit. 

Ten days since he'd had a security bracelet snapped around his wrist. 

And Kathryn Janeway's 47th birthday. 

Chakotay realised with a pang that he hadn't even thought about a present for her this year. 

_Well, I for one think there's someone else you should apologize to for your recent disappearing act..._

Tom's words reverberated around his head. He realised that he never had apologised to his best friend, but instead had just asked her about the reasons behind the admiral's visit. And now on top of not being there for Kathryn during that time, he had forgotten that her birthday had been approaching. He had made it a point over the years to put some thought into her special day; what to give her, where to take her to celebrate... But this year it had slipped his mind completely. 

He briefly thought about contacting her, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had occurred to him. He simply wouldn't know what to say. The last time they had spoken, well, the last time in private at any rate... 

_Very good, Captain. I'll be in my office if you should need me._

Spirits, he had been so formal! And then to hear her break down like she had... 

No, he couldn't contact her; he just wouldn't know what to say. Pretend everything was rosy between them? He knew that it wasn't. Formally wish her a happy birthday as any former First Officer might? No, that wouldn't work either. It was safer just to avoid the matter altogether, and hope that someday he could make it up to her. Someday, he had to rebuild the friendship that he had taken a large hand in damaging. 

Just not today. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The chaotic babbling emanating from the room below alerted Kathryn to the arrival of her sister and the twins. Placing the holoimage she had been studying back on the table beside her, she left her bedroom and made her way downstairs. As she reached the doorway to the living room she stopped briefly to take in the scene in front of her. Phoebe was sitting on one end of the sofa, looking even better than she had in any of the recent images Kathryn had seen. Her hair was still as dark, curly and beautiful as ever, and her grey eyes simply shone with life. 

The twins were both standing at their grandmother's feet, talking over the top of each other and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Kym, the elder by ten minutes, had the most gorgeous red hair Kathryn had ever seen. It reached just past her shoulders, and was partially clipped back in silver hair slides. Ashley's hair was blond, a trait Kathryn assumed had to have come from his father. They were both dressed in blue jeans and yellow t-shirts, and Kathryn couldn't help but despair at what was obviously her sister's idea of 'cute'. Personally, she had never been able to understand why parents insisted on dressing twins the same, especially when they weren't identical. 

Deciding she'd stood there long enough, Kathryn took the last few steps into full view and finally caught the attention of her sister. Phoebe could have broken glass with her shriek as she jumped up from the sofa and enveloped Kathryn in a giant bear hug. Kym and Ashley immediately abandoned their grandma when they heard their mother squeal and stood, mouths open, staring at the scene in front of them. Kathryn and Phoebe both began to laugh, and tears streaked down their faces. 

"I can't believe it's been so long!" Phoebe cried, "You look fantastic." 

"You too, Phoebe. I was kinda hoping having two children would have affected you a little," Kathryn teased. "Speaking of which, these two are absolutely gorgeous." 

Kathryn smiled at the twins, and Phoebe beckoned them over to stand in front of her before addressing them. 

"Kym, Ashley, there's someone I'd like you to meet. This is my sister, your Auntie Kathryn." 

The two children just stood warily examining their new acquaintance, until Kathryn crouched down to their level, smiled at them, and said hello. Then it was as if some kind of barrier was lifted, as the children ran towards her and nearly knocked her off her feet – they may have been only three years old, but there were two of them and in her position near the floor Kathryn had already been decidedly off-balance. 

Regaining her composure Kathryn hugged them with an arm each, and looked up at her sister and mother. "I can tell these are your children, Phoebe, their features are just like yours." 

"Kym reminds me a lot of you when you were her age, Kathryn," Gretchen interjected. "Her hair is a little brighter maybe, but equally beautiful. And she's just as clever; I think she's going for your record on learning her multiplication tables." 

Kathryn gave no answer. It was well known in the Janeway family that Kathryn had never liked her hair when she was younger, and she didn't really want to comment on her own intellectual ability; so silence seemed the best option. 

"Ashley, on the other hand," Phoebe continued, "is already showing signs of being more like his father. That is, if you include drawing on his hands and writing all over his sister to be the beginnings of a love for classical literature!" 

Kathryn had to laugh at this, the image of a child at play being one of the most innocent and the most soothing thoughts to her mind. Standing up fully once again, she moved to the sofa where Phoebe had previously been sitting, and beckoned her back to join her. 

"So, Phoebe, tell me all about this husband of yours! You mentioned a love of literature, does he write?" 

The sisters talked for well over an hour as Gretchen entertained her grandchildren. Then after lunch Kathryn found herself crawling around on her hands and knees getting to know her niece and nephew better. For a few precious hours she had nothing on her mind but dolls, toy spaceships, and the ins and outs of building a tower out of old-fashioned sugar cubes. 

Before she knew it dinner had been and gone, and Phoebe and the twins had to go home. Finding herself yawning for the fifteenth time in ten minutes, Kathryn retired to bed not more than three quarters of an hour after the threesome had left. Despite the early hour she fell immediately into a deep sleep, the most refreshing sleep she had had in years. 

In the warmth of her family, and no matter how temporarily, Kathryn had found some peace. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Admiral Muir   
From: Commodore Ducci   
Stardate: 55028.5   
Subject: Ensign Harry Kim 

Following review of his files and interviewing the man himself I see no reason to question any of the reprimands or commendations Ensign Kim received from Captain Janeway. Furthermore, I have noted the captain's early recommendation that Harry be promoted to the rank of Lieutenant, and add my own voice to this request. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Commodore Ducci   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55031.3   
Subject: Ensign Harry Kim 

Your recommendations regarding Ensign Kim are noted. I will be requesting a personal meeting with him next week. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Chakotay lay in bed awake, thoughts of recent days racing around his head. A lot had been happening. Most of the crew were still involved in debriefing rather than any legal proceedings, but it was tiring work all the same. During the days, he barely had time to think about what was going on around him. When he wasn't talking to Starfleet himself, he was often to be found counselling one crewmen or another as the enormity of what could happen to them all finally sunk in. He was usually so wrapped up in looking after his crew, his friends, that at the time he was unable to spare any brain capacity to react too much to what he was saying. But now, alone in the accommodation that could be his home for months to come, his thoughts could finally run free. Maybe a little too free. 

He had hoped the crew's actions over the years would not be scrutinized too fully. He knew some review was necessary, but too much analysis could have a bad effect on the crew, especially the senior officers. Of course, the majority of the material being examined concerned the times things had gone wrong. It was this that was the most concerning to Chakotay. It was human nature to beat yourself up over bad decisions, the last thing anyone needed was the chance to relive every mistake you had made over a period as long as they had been gone. 

It crossed his mind, not for the first time, that one person in particular was unlikely to maintain the healthy distance from past decisions that such a review procedure required. Unfortunately, with things the way they were at the moment, there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. 

His thoughts staying with Kathryn, he allowed himself to worry about the hearing she would have to endure. He hadn't heard anything to confirm it, but he suspected Starfleet were saving the captain's review for last. The content of that evaluation would be anyone's guess, but it wouldn't surprise him if she ended up defending criticisms more than receiving praise. He had been in Starfleet long enough to realise that they were unlikely to completely ignore some of her actions in the Delta Quadrant. 

Perhaps his own trial, and those of the other former Maquis, would provide some clue as to how Starfleet would deal with Kathryn. If the Maquis received convictions with heavy sentences, Starfleet may follow suit and throw everything they could possibly find at Voyager's captain. If the Maquis received not-guilty verdicts, then leniency with Janeway would seem the logical way to go. On the other hand, the brass may just decide to make her the scapegoat for any and all wrongdoings over the years. After all, as captain she had been ultimately responsible for everything that had happened – good or bad. So on second thoughts, the Maquis results would be useless as a predictor. 

One thing Chakotay did know, could say with certainty. Things were going to get tough; he just hoped they were strong enough to cope with it all. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Commodore Ducci   
From: Doctor Sean Wilkes   
Stardate: 55036.8   
Subject: Seven of Nine – Medical Report 

Voyager's medical logs and my own examination of Seven of Nine indicate that her physiology is now primarily human; only those implants necessary for her survival remain. It is therefore my recommendation that her personnel file classifies her as human rather than borg. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Commodore Ducci   
From: Counsellor Evelyn Romaine   
Stardate: 55039.5   
Subject: Seven of Nine 

It is my professional opinion that the subject is of no danger to the general population. She no longer identifies herself as a borg drone, and shows no signs of hostile intent. She will require time to adjust to life back on Earth, but it is not my recommendation that she requires holding in a secure facility at this time. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Ducci waltzed into Janeway's office as if he owned the place, and sensing something in the way he carried himself Kathryn dismissed Ensign Feho with a nod of her head. Once they were alone, the commodore spoke. 

"Captain, I was hoping to speak to you about Seven of Nine." 

Kathryn barely managed to keep her face neutral, but inside her stomach was reeling. Seven was not her favourite subject these days, and she had done her very best not to think about her. It hadn't been working very well, but at least she hadn't had to see her. And she only felt _some_ guilt at being in any way happy that Seven had been held in a secure building since they'd been back on Earth; it had nicely removed any chance of an accidental meeting with her. 

Now, it appeared, she was going to have to spend some time purposefully thinking and speaking about that _thing_. 

Commodore Ducci continued. "I have been investigating any possible threat the borg poses to the Federation, and would appreciate your cooperation." 

Great, not only did she have to talk about Seven, she had to do so in a positive manner. It just got better. To the commodore, she simply answered, 

"Certainly, what is it you would like to know?" 

The opening questions were predictable. How had Seven adapted to the command structure, how had the crew reacted to her presence on the ship, had she ever caused injury to anyone on board… 

Recent personal injuries to herself crossed Kathryn's mind, but she decided not to commit that particular issue to official Starfleet record. 

From there things became a little more in depth, and Janeway found herself having to think carefully about her answers. How did you deny that Seven's presence was likely to provoke future involvement with the Borg Queen? Of course, that question worked on the assumption that the Queen was still around to worry about – an assumption Janeway was more than willing to make. That woman had enough lives to convince Kathryn that somewhere along the line, she had to have assimilated a cat. 

Luckily for Seven, and she supposed Chakotay by extension, Kathryn must have said something right. By the end of the interview Commodore Ducci had stopped referring to Seven as 'the borg', and seemed to be coming around to the idea that she had become a fully integrated member of Janeway's crew over the years. Despite herself, Kathryn was glad she had been able to help. Seven was still a member of her crew, and no matter what personal resentment, or even jealousy, she may currently feel, it hadn't always been that way. And it would be unfair to do anything to harm Seven's future freedom out of some juvenile need for revenge over the theft of Kathryn's own future. Or rather, the future she had dreamt of. 

Ducci left Janeway's office satisfied that he now had enough information to compile his report. He had been concerned at first; Janeway had seemed a little less easy talking about Seven than he had expected, having read reports detailing their relationship over the years. No matter, she had given him the information he needed. And, he supposed, every friendship went through its rough patches. He was sure that, whatever bust up they might have had, it would be sorted out soon enough. And it was none of his business, anyway. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Admiral Muir   
From: Commodore Ducci   
Stardate: 55050.5   
Subject: Seven of Nine 

After intensive interviews with the subject, reviews of Voyager's logs and reports from appropriate medical personnel, it is my opinion that Seven of Nine is of minimal threat to the Federation. There is no recent evidence of hostility towards those she interacts with, and she appears to have integrated well with other members of Voyager's crew. Her knowledge of the Borg and their technology is of course extensive, and for this reason alone I feel that she is too big an asset to lose. I recommend that she be declared a free citizen of the Federation, and that she is offered a civilian posting within Starfleet. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Commodore Ducci   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55051.3   
Subject: Seven of Nine 

Your recommendation is noted. Please offer her such a position with all benefits, including Starfleet quarters should she so wish. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Admiral Muir   
From: Commodore Ducci   
Stardate: 55055.9   
Subject: Seven of Nine 

Seven of Nine has accepted the offer, pointing out that working for Starfleet will give her some continuity in a situation she is at present unfamiliar with. A package that suits both sides has been agreed upon. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Harry walked into Admiral Muir's office not entirely sure what to expect. No one else, excepting the captain, had actually had to meet Muir; and no one had seen or spoken to the captain since she had had that pleasure. No one had a clue what the admiral looked like, how he acted, if he even liked the crew of Voyager or admired what they had done. Harry felt like the ensign sent in to test the lie of the land, to find out if it was safe before anyone less… expendable had to tread the same ground. 

It seemed he would have to wait a little longer. Despite the admiral's aide telling him to go right in, the desk at which Harry had expected to see his superior officer was empty. Noting that he was actually five minutes early for their scheduled meeting, he took a seat across the desk from the admiral's empty chair and waited. 

At 1100 hours exactly, Admiral Muir strode into the room. Harry had to blink twice to believe it; the man had made the meeting on time to the second. His surprise caused him to be a little late to get out of his chair, and as soon as he realised his lapse in protocol he leapt up so fast it was a wonder he came to a stop upright, instead of flying headfirst into the opposite wall. He came straight to attention, and the admiral just gave the smallest hint of a smile before ordering him at ease, and gesturing to the seat Harry had barely been out of for ten seconds. The admiral himself walked in a leisurely manner around the desk to take his own seat. 

"So, Mr Kim, how does it feel to be back?" 

"Good, Sir, it's been good to see my family again." 

"You're staying with your parents at the moment, is that correct?" 

"Yes, Sir." Harry would answer the admiral's questions to be polite, but he silently wished he would just get to the point. 

"That must be a change from living in your quarters on Voyager for the past seven years. I'm curious, which do you find to be more… private – your own quarters on a small starship, or a room in your parents' house? I would have thought you would have valued your independence too much after this long to move back in with your mom and dad." 

"It's not a long-term solution, Sir. It has been nice to be able to spend time with them when I haven't been busy with the debriefing here. Anyway, I'm not the only one to have moved back with their folks; I hear Captain Janeway moved her stuff over to her mother's less than two weeks after we returned." 

"A smart one I see." Harry had the grace to look a little sheepish at that comment. "Well, I suppose we should get down to the reason I called you here. Have you thought about how you would like to see your career progress now you're back on Earth?" 

"I've thought about it, but not come up with any concrete ideas. Do I need to make a decision right now?" 

"No, I don't think that's necessary. You can take your leave like everyone else, and maybe that time will allow you to decide what you want. There is one thing we do need to do today though." The admiral opened his draw and pulled out a box, playing with it in his hands whilst he continued to talk. 

"I'm sorry Captain Janeway couldn't at least be here for this, but I'm sure you understand that things are a little strained right now. We weren't as prepared as we'd have liked to have been for your return, and I don't think you were either. We've had to ask Captain Janeway to do a lot of work preparing the records of the last seven years for us to review, and we understand that has kept her away from you all." It wasn't the whole truth, but it was enough. "Anyway, that's not the point right now." Admiral Muir glanced down at the box in his hands and then passed it over to Harry. "Go on then, open it." 

Harry didn't have to be told twice. What he saw inside left him speechless. 

"Harry Kim, I hereby promote you to the rank of lieutenant. Congratulations." 

Staring down at the pip that he now held in his hands, Lieutenant Kim finally found his voice. "Thank you, Sir." 

"You deserve it. That's all, Lieutenant. You're dismissed." Harry rose and walked out of the room. That hadn't been so bad. No, not bad at all. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Admiral Muir   
From: Commodore Salada   
Stardate: 55124.4   
Subject: Complaint notice   
Attachment: Detailed breakdown of grievances filed 

Crewman Lessing has filed grievances against Captain Kathryn Janeway concerning her interrogation of him aboard Voyager. I have included details of the complaint in the attached file, so that you may review the matter and determine the most appropriate course of action from this point. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

*DECRYPTION CODE: ACCEPTED* 

To: Admiral Muir   
From: Commodore Ducci   
Stardate: 55135.4   
Subject: Complaints about Captain Kathryn Janeway 

It has come to my attention that a second complaint has been made against Captain Janeway, and I am concerned as to how this may affect her hearing. Please advise. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The door closed sealing Commodores Ducci and Salada in with Admiral Muir, ready for a conversation that had been on the cards from the moment Lessing had opened his big mouth. 

"Gentlemen, please sit down," Admiral Muir opened the meeting. "We all know why we're here. Mr Salada, I need a report on exactly what happened with Crewman Lessing." 

"I think it's all fairly self-explanatory," Salada began. "Captain Janeway lowered the shields around Lessing during her interrogation…" 

"Step back a bit," Muir interrupted, "what interrogation?" 

After pausing to refocus his thoughts, Salada continued. "Janeway was pressing Mr Lessing for information regarding Captain Ransom's status at the time. The logs state he was less than forthcoming – although it may be wise to keep in mind that these are _Janeway's _logs – and needed some coercion to open up. This is where things start to get a little awkward. Are you both familiar with the situation at that time?" 

"Yes," Muir answered for them both. 

"In that case, I will now come to the subject of the complaint. Captain Janeway, in the belief that Lessing would break under fear for his life, exited the cargo bay where Lessing was being held, with Commander Chakotay in tow. Once out she lowered the shields around that room, with the intention of allowing the alien's fissures to open. A fissure did start to open, but Lessing remained silent. We cannot accurately determine whether Janeway would have gotten him out of there in time to prevent his death because her First Officer took the decision out of her hands. However, it is my belief that she would have left him in there to die." 

"This is a serious inference, Commodore. On what is this belief of yours based?" 

"It is based on the fact that Commander Chakotay's actions, in saving the life of Crewman Lessing, resulted in his being relieved from duty." 

"I believe it was actually the commander's statement that he would undermine the captain's orders again, given the need to, which resulted in that particular action," Muir corrected. 

"If I may be blunt, Sir, it all stems from the same thing." Commodore Salada was adamant in his beliefs. 

"Getting back to the point," Ducci interjected, speaking for the first time, "I believe we are here to discuss the impact of this complaint on Captain Janeway's future." 

"And on the Courts Martial for the Equinox crewmen," Muir added, "this has implications for them too." 

"How so?" asked Salada. 

"Assuming that we want to deal with this in such a way that it has little to no impact on Janeway's standing, we're going to have to be careful how we deal with Lessing and the others. The alleged action against him effectively amounts to attempted murder by a superior officer, an officer whom we all know is going to come out of her own review smelling of roses and hailed as a hero. If we come down hard on Lessing and his former crewmates, he could find the perfect retaliation in taking his story to the press. Every sordid detail. They may not have much sympathy for him now, but believe me, it won't be long before any dirt on the heroic Captain Janeway will be worth its weight in latinum." 

"So what do you suggest?" 

"My suggestion would be that we are as easy on the Equinox crew as we can be, without raising any suspicions of interference. With the charges laid against them, we would be within our powers to bestow custodial sentences on the lot of them, following their dishonourable discharge from the 'fleet. As it stands, I think we would be wiser to recommend only the discharge. In the case of Marla Gilmore, I would recommend that she is not thrown out, but rather encouraged to resign. She did, after all, stay loyal to Ransom when the rest of the crew mutinied. Do I have your agreement on this, gentlemen?" 

"Yes Sir," the two officers replied. 

"Then you're dismissed. I'm sure you both have other duties to attend to." 

"Sir," they both replied again, as they left the room, and Admiral Muir settled at his own desk to get on with his day. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Chakotay watched as five seething crewmen stormed away from the building that contained his own quarters. Or should that be, _ex_-crewmen. All five surviving members of the Equinox crew were now out of Starfleet. One had 'resigned', he had heard; the other four dishonourably discharged. Chakotay couldn't say he was particularly sorry to know that he was unlikely to cross paths with these people again. Seeing them only brought back memories, memories of a time he would rather forget. 

They made him think of a time when lines had been blurred and life aboard Voyager had been strained. That period had been riddled with arguments with Kathryn, and the whole crew had witnessed as their command relationship had fallen apart, taking the friendship with it. The repair work had taken weeks, perhaps even months... an experience he was not keen to repeat. Just one of the reasons it was important to him that, once the current situation was over, he found some way to make up for her lousy birthday this year. He just had to figure out how. 

Of course, the Equinox hadn't been the only source of arguments within the command team. Chakotay sometimes wondered if he and Kathryn would have clashed so often if their relationship had been simpler. Life had been that little bit more interesting from the moment he had met the woman who had later become his best friend. He had yet to decide whether Starfleet's brass had picked up on their interesting relationship. For some reason – and he couldn't put his finger on why – Chakotay hoped they hadn't. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

*DECRYPTION CODE: ACCEPTED* 

To: Commodore Ducci   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55165.5   
Subject: Concerns about Captain Kathryn Janeway 

Please be advised that, as the Equinox hearings have concluded peacefully, I am not expecting any unpleasant repercussions concerning the previously discussed complaints against Kathryn Janeway. I am more concerned that the captain herself has gone against advice and involved herself in the Maquis trials. Please look into this matter and report to me personally. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The chime sounded, alerting Admiral Muir that he had company. 

"Enter." 

The doors opened and Commodore Ducci strode into the room, his gait purposeful and his expression serious. 

"Admiral." 

"Commodore, I assume you have something to report." 

"Yes, I have made some enquiries regarding Janeway and the Maquis. I believe that she is involving herself in the trials, but I can't find any proof." 

"So she's being careful," Muir replied, "we should expect that from her." 

"Yes. But if there's no proof, if she's leaving no tracks, where do we go from here?" 

"If she's leaving no trail we can't prove that she broke the agreement. I've not felt any pressure about this one yet, so I'm assuming those who matter haven't caught a whiff of it. Monitor her. Have someone keeping an eye on her transmissions." 

"Do you want her under formal surveillance?" 

"No, I don't think we need to go that far. This isn't a conspiracy against her; we just didn't want things to get messy with the trials. Sometimes judges will go the way you want them to only until they feel they are being pressurised into acting a certain way. As soon as someone makes it public that they have asked for or have been working for a certain result, to then give that result could make them appear weak or corruptible. It's no more complicated than that. I don't want Janeway jeopardising the futures of her crew by interfering where it's not necessary. Unfortunately, I know she's precisely the type of captain who will fight to the bitter end for her crew, whether she's told it's what's good for them or not." 

"Most of the time, that makes her the kind of captain any officer would want," Ducci observed. 

"Most of the time, yes," the admiral confirmed. "Just not now." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Admiral Muir   
From: Commodore Salada   
Stardate: 55182.0   
Subject: Maquis trials   
Attachment: Names and convictions 

The first group of Maquis trials concluded today. All were convicted on all charges brought against them, and received custodial sentences appropriate to the charges. However, all sentences were ordered served concurrently and considered served aboard Voyager. These crewmembers therefore await your approval for release. A list of names and convictions is attached, together with their ranks and positions aboard Voyager. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Commodore Salada   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55192.9   
Subject: Trial results 

I have reviewed the list of names and enclose a document of my own detailing positions to be offered to those wishing to remain in Starfleet. I trust you will talk to these crewmen and deal with their responses appropriately. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: All Voyager crewmembers   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55198.4   
Subject: Leave entitlement 

All crewmembers are entitled to thirty days' leave, paid at a rate appropriate to their position on Voyager. It is strongly recommended that this leave be taken as soon as debriefing is complete, and it may not be taken before such time. This offer is of course subject to change in the case of any crewmember receiving a custodial sentence not considered already served. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

A new day dawned, and with it came the start of another miserable shift for Ensign Feho. She was early as usual, not daring to be otherwise, so it made little difference that she dragged her feet a little as she approached Janeway's office. She knew she hadn't gotten off to the best start with the captain, but honestly didn't see what she continued to do that consistently kept Janeway on her back. More than once she'd wondered whether it was who she _wasn't_ that was the problem, rather than who she was and what she did. It was possible that it all boiled down to one thing. 

She hadn't spent the last seven years in the Delta Quadrant. She wasn't 'one of them'. 

Her heart only sank lower when she reached the office door, and could hear only too well that her superior was already inside. Stopping to assess the situation, she realised she could only hear one voice; one loud, angry voice. Kessa quickly deduced that Janeway was arguing over a comm link, judging by the volume and the occasional pauses. Had she been giving some poor soul a dressing down in there, nothing would have been heard outside the closed doors. Captain Janeway's reprimands were calmly, quietly delivered. Understated. Frightening. And highly effective. 

It caught Kessa completely off guard when the woman in question stormed out of the office and strode purposefully down the corridor, almost bowling the ensign over as she passed. Seeming to move at close to warp speed, she was out of sight almost before she had appeared. Ridiculously thankful that, at least for now, the office was safe, Kessa moved in and sat down. 

Then got up. 

An active file on Janeway's screen had caught her eye. Since the short briefing she had received on that first day, Kessa had never been told any more about Janeway's work, and she had never asked. The captain had been meticulous, bordering on obsessive, about closing down her files every time she left her desk – even if it was just to fetch a coffee from the replicator. Whatever this morning's call had been about it had obviously thrown Janeway off-guard, as Kessa now found herself staring at a screen she now understood she had never been meant to see. 

It contained a photo, personal information, service record, list of charges and further information all pertaining to one B'Elanna Torres. 

Unable to resist the temptation, Kessa sat down and scrolled through the data. As she looked more carefully she saw notes added throughout, detailing holes in the evidence, any possible weakness that could be exploited with the intention of clearing Torres' name; or at least reducing the charges. 

What wasn't obvious was whom this information was intended for. Feho wasn't stupid; she realised that if Captain Janeway was working on this covertly, she wasn't supposed to be working on it at all. So who could this information possibly be headed for? How was Janeway intending to alter someone's intentions without them ever realising she had been in their minds? It was beyond Kessa's comprehension, and quite frankly, she thought it best it remained that way. 

The question was, what did she do now that she had seen one of the captain's files? Tell her, or keep quiet? Close it, or leave it active with the risk that someone else would come into the office and discover what the captain was doing? Almost instinctively, her hand shot out and closed the file. No sooner had she done it than she realised she wouldn't be telling the captain a thing. She didn't need to know, and she wouldn't question a blank screen when she returned to her monitor. If she had any doubts, she would most likely assume she had automatically deactivated the file herself before leaving, and didn't remember doing so simply because it was so routine. 

Settling back into her own chair, Kessa was forced to admit how, even against her own will, Janeway had managed to gain her loyalty. It was almost infuriating, and yet at the same time a warm feeling began to grow inside the young ensign. Voyager's crew may never know it, but they had just gained one more benefactor. It was Feho's little secret, and for some reason, she thought she would like it to remain that way. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

As the weeks passed, more of the Maquis were convicted, and more of the Starfleet crew were released from debriefing. Many of the latter got away with no review hearing at all. If they had done their job, mostly stayed out of the senior staff's way throughout the trip, then there wasn't a whole lot to review. 

The list of Maquis convictions now included Michael Ayala and B'Elanna Torres. To Chakotay's relief, both had received pretty much the same sentences as all the others – custodial, but considered already served whilst on Voyager. They were two cases he'd been particularly keen to see end. Both had always been more than just crewmen to him; they were personal friends. He'd been through a lot with them both in the Maquis, and later on Voyager; it lifted a great weight from his mind to know that they were now free to get on with their lives. Whatever uncertainties the future may bring, at least they could face it as free citizens. 

There were only a few trials left to be completed, including his own – scheduled last by the civilian authorities. He was trying not to worry about it too much. He had legal representation, had discussed his case at great length, but he had seen enough of the others go through the system by now that he could be fairly certain how it would go. The only thing he wasn't sure of was whether his entire sentence would be short enough to have been completed aboard Voyager. It may have been a long seven years, but had it been long enough for the authorities? 

Thinking back to Voyager, Chakotay knew that every former member of the Liberty's crew was thankful it had been Kathryn they'd ended up with and not any one of a hundred other Starfleet captains. He knew of more than a few who would not have granted them so much... so much of anything, really. Kathryn had put her trust in Chakotay, and to a large extent in the rest of his crew, right from the moment the Liberty was destroyed. That trust had faltered once or twice along the way, but essentially it had seen them through. 

The crew had eventually learned to return the captain's faith in them, but now it seemed that relationship was being called into question. No word had been heard from her since they left the ship, either directly, through Chakotay or via any other source. Some members of the group, particularly the Equinox crew, had long since taken offence, and made underhand suggestions that she was now more worried about saving her own butt than trying to help any of the criminals she had brought home. Chakotay found himself, once again, defending his captain; though he was as unsure as some of the others about the reasons for her absence. 

As he thought about Kathryn, his mind strayed to the possible outcome of her review. There had still been no indication as to what may happen to her. Surely Starfleet wouldn't make such a huge PR mistake as to throw the book at the heroic captain of Voyager, the lady who brought her ship home against the odds? He hoped they had more sense than that, but at the same time he realised that so far the crew had suffered very few consequences from their actions in the Delta Quadrant. The original crew had barely received a dozen reprimands between them, and whilst the Maquis had all been convicted – except for the small group released at the end of the first week – they had all been sentenced to time already served at worst. Essentially, they could all put it behind them. 

It stood to reason that, as captain, Kathryn could be held accountable for everything that had gone wrong during the last seven years. If they had gone easy on the rest of the crew, why not use their captain as an example? It was, to coin a phrase, far more efficient to taint the record of one person, to lose one officer, than it was to throw an entire ship's personnel out of Starfleet. What they may not anticipate if they went down that route would be the crew's strength of feeling for their captain. If Starfleet did _anything_ against her, the chances were they would lose the majority of the Voyager crew in protest. 

It wouldn't be good for Kathryn, it wouldn't be good for their crew, and it wouldn't be good for Starfleet. 

In fact, the only people it would benefit would be the media. 

Lucky them. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn let herself in the kitchen door and walked through to the living room, calling for her mother as she went. However there was no reply, and she rapidly came to the conclusion that she was alone in the house. After returning to the kitchen briefly to fetch herself a glass of water, she collapsed onto one end of the sofa where Molly came to join her. The ageing dog clambered up beside Kathryn and laid her head in her lap in such a way that Kathryn couldn't resist stroking her. The rhythmical movement of her hand over Molly's soft fur soon became automatic, and as she started to relax Kathryn began to talk to her old friend. 

"So, Molly, who'd have thought it, eh? Members of my crew are on trial and I'm nowhere near, having to hide in the background to help them out. After every promise I made them, every time I told them I would speak up for them when we got home... they must think I went back on my word. 

"But I didn't! I'm doing everything I can. If I let them know I'm involved, it could do more damage than it would good. Hell, I could be no safer than the rest of them if what I've been told is anything to go by. How _did_ it get this far, Molly, how did it get this far? 

"Would you believe, there's even been complaints about me? I only overheard this, but it seems Crewman Lessing and Ensign Sharr both saw fit to file grievances over my actions on Voyager. I can only assume the brass is ignoring them since they haven't hauled me in for questioning yet. It seems my crew are not _quite_ as loyal as they've been made out to be in the past. No, that's unfair. The majority of them have never given me reason to question their loyalty, and until they do I shouldn't pass judgement. After all, who am I to question loyalty, when I'm distancing myself from all of them now? I'm starting to wonder whether that was such a good idea, but I guess it's too late now. What's done is done. 

"The isolation has been hard though, Molly. I'm so used to seeing them, working with them, laughing with them all every day. Every day for seven years I saw the same faces, heard the same voices, and now they've all been taken away from me. Or did I take myself away from them? I'm not even sure it matters anymore. 

"But I miss them. I miss them so much. Every time one of them is mentioned on the news I feel like I'm going to cry. I saw Miral in the background of one of the reports last week; she's grown so much! And she's looking more and more like her parents everyday. 

"I hope those on trial are doing okay. Maybe I should have sent a message to them all, just something personal telling them I missed them all and was keeping an eye on them from out here. Something so that they would know I hadn't forgotten about them, so that they would know I'm staying away not because I want to, but because I feel I have to. 

"Though, I have to admit, staying away from them has its benefits. I just couldn't handle speaking to him now, Molly." As her mind switched gears to Chakotay, a single tear threatened to escape. Kathryn wiped it away before it had a chance to fall. "In all those years, I never saw this coming. I didn't think he even liked her; he certainly didn't agree with me when I kept her on board. And all those times we argued and she was the reason... it just doesn't make any sense." 

Kathryn noticed she hadn't actually been speaking their names. A subconscious form of denial, perhaps? If she didn't actually speak their names together, it wasn't real? Whether this was the case or not, she decided not to dwell on it. 

"You know, I even thought perhaps he was jealous of her. I always gave her a lot of my time, brushed him off more than once along the way because I was doing something with her. Maybe that had something to do with it. Hell, maybe I should have seen it coming! I've been the closest thing she's had to a mother since she was reclaimed from the borg, she must have picked up a few of my characteristics along the way. And well, when you consider that blondes have always seemed to be his thing... what could be more perfect for him? 

"But damn it, I love him, and now I have to live with the same regrets the admiral battled with all her life. 'One of the things I regret in the small hours of the morning', she said, 'when sleep isn't possible' – at least that won't be a new experience, I've lived with sleepless nights before." A second tear started to roll down Kathryn's face, and this time she made no effort to stop it. She cursed her counterpart's miscalculations... if she'd only had a chance. 

As Kathryn's thoughts continued to dwell on Chakotay and Seven, the pressure behind her eyes increased as tears battled with her own will-power for supremacy. The tears won out, and for the first time since she had been home Kathryn finally broke down and cried. Her hand stilled on Molly's neck as she lost all control of her thoughts and feelings, crying for the might-have-beens and never-would-bes. Molly just lay patiently, lending her owner support, until finally Kathryn's tears were exhausted and she fell into a fitful sleep. 

It was in that position that, hours later, her mother found her and left her, while she too went to get some rest. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Admiral Muir   
From: Commodore Salada   
Stardate: 55333.3   
Subject: Commander Chakotay 

Commander Chakotay's trial ended today. He was found guilty on all charges, but due to his service record aboard Voyager he received the minimum sentence for each one, to be served concurrently during his time on the ship. His sentence is therefore considered to be served and the matter closed. I await your instructions as to how to proceed at this time. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Chakotay arrived back at his quarters to find a message bleeping on his monitor. Activating the screen, he found that it was a text-only note from B'Elanna. 

_'Chakotay,_

_We heard about your result today – no jail time, excellent news! We've been really worried about you, I was afraid they would try to make an example of you after the rest of us all got away with time served. I'm sorry we're not able to be with you to celebrate tonight, but we're in England; Kathleen just had her baby, and as I've come to realise those kids have a lousy sense of timing. To make up for it, you'll find a program dormant in your replicator's memory banks. Activate it, and invite someone over for dinner – our treat. We'll talk to you soon_

_B. '_

Chakotay smiled, but it was only half-hearted. It was nice that B'Elanna had thought about him, but he actually didn't have anyone to celebrate with. The others had mostly moved on once their court proceedings and debrief had been completed. He had been as good as last, only Kathryn's review was still to come, so no one was left to celebrate now that he was free. 

Deciding to make the most of the situation, Chakotay called up his favourite book on the screen and moved across to the replicator. Activating the program, a six-pack and pizza shimmered into existence in front of him; the choice had Tom's hand stamped all over it. They may have intended him to share the meal with someone, but he would just have to enjoy it alone. 

_Alone. Still in love with you..._

Chakotay shook his head to clear it. Now wasn't the time to think about that conversation; now was the time to celebrate. He had beer, he had pizza, he had a good book. 

So why did he find himself wishing for Antarian cider and burnt roast? 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Commodore Salada   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55338.4   
Subject: Commander Chakotay   
Attachment: Job description and contract details 

Thank you for your report concerning Commander Chakotay. I have personally reviewed his record, both his original Starfleet personnel file and the files from his time aboard Voyager. He has skills that would be an asset to Starfleet, and I believe he has in the past expressed a wish to teach. However, there is still a lot of bad feeling within the ranks about officers who left Starfleet to join the Maquis. For this reason I would recommend that he does not retain his position in Starfleet, although this of course remains his choice. Please offer the commander a civilian teaching post at the Academy. The details of this offer are contained in the attached file. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Commodore Salada's office was… different. Chakotay had been in many of his superior's offices in the past, but he'd never seen anything quite like this. Salada had seemed like such a normal, typical Starfleet character too. Yet here, in his office, the picture painted was far from normal. This had to be against regulations. 

On each wall, there was a different theme. The wall that held the window was covered with photographs of famous landmarks from throughout the quadrant. Vulcan monuments, Betazoid waterfalls, Risan beaches... and each photo, in the foreground, contained an obviously imported image of the photographer. Salada himself. 

The second wall, behind the desk, was painted with a starscape, simulating the image you might find out of a viewport at any one of the Federation's space stations. 

The third wall was perhaps the most normal for an office. It contained only three frames. One contained the commodore's degree certificate, another his certificate of graduation from the Academy, and the third, a picture of himself and his wife on their wedding day. 

The last wall, the one the door was built into, was without doubt the most odd. It was painted, like the second wall, but this time hundreds of tiny feathers had been used to print autumn colours onto the wall. Chakotay supposed that the colours could be somewhat soothing, and he couldn't deny that it probably looked stunning when the sun streamed in and hit at just the right angle, but it was… as he'd said before. Different. 

And it gave Chakotay something to think about whilst he waited for Salada, who arrived twenty minutes late. 

"I'm sorry Commander, take a seat." Finally looking up and seeing that Chakotay was already seated, Salada added, "Oh, you already have. Okay, let's get on with business." 

The commodore went on to explain everything that Admiral Muir had mentioned to him, all the reasons for Chakotay to remain working for Starfleet along with an explanation of just why it would be in his best interests to do so as a civilian. 

"Let me get this right," Chakotay interrupted, "basically, you're saying that if I were to stay in the 'fleet I'd be likely to come up against some bad feeling. I've been in the Maquis, fought hand-to-hand with more than my share of Cardassians, and you feel this would bother me?" 

"Commander, please don't take this the wrong way…" 

"Don't bother," Chakotay interrupted, "I've decided to go with your recommendation anyway. For my own reasons. I've been thinking long and hard about my position with Starfleet, and to be honest I hadn't come to a definite decision. I have many reasons to want to leave as I did once before, but I also have reasons to stay. The position you're offering me at the Academy allows me to have the best of both worlds, I'd be crazy to turn it down." 

"So you're accepting our offer." 

"I believe that's what I just said." 

"Good," Salada's voice was full of relief, "would you like me to outline the terms to you now, or would you rather take a copy of the contract away with you to look over?" 

"I'll take it away with me, if that's okay," Chakotay replied. 

"Certainly." The commodore handed a PADD over. "Just read this through, and when you're satisfied sign the bottom and return it to me, preferably by the end of the day." 

"You'll have it by the end of the morning, Commodore, along with my letter of resignation from the 'fleet." 

"Thank you, Commander. And may I say that, whilst it's a shame to see an officer of your standing leave the service, I am glad we're not losing you completely." 

"Thank you, Commodore." _I think_, Chakotay added to himself as he left the room, heading back to his quarters to read over the information on the PADD. 

And of course, to write a letter. His second resignation from Starfleet. He doubted many people could claim to have done that. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: Admiral Muir   
From: Commodore Salada   
Stardate: 55341.1   
Subject: Commander Chakotay 

Commander Chakotay has accepted the offered position and all terms of the agreement. Please find attached a signed copy of the contract. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn's performance review was underway, and after a typically horrendous Monday she let herself in and walked through to the living room, letting the door close behind her with a bang. 

"Kathryn, is that you?" her mother called from upstairs. 

"No, I'm just a figment of your imagination. The _real_ Kathryn is still debating my various 'discretions' with the powers that be at headquarters." _And the whole damn thing is just for show_, she silently added, the ridiculousness of the situation getting to her. 

Gretchen had made her way down the stairs whilst her daughter had been talking. "You look exhausted." 

"I _feel_ exhausted." As if to prove emphasise her point she collapsed rather ungracefully onto the sofa. 

"You got a call this evening, can't have been more than twenty minutes ago actually. He didn't say who he was but I recognised him from the photos." 

"Who was it, Mom?" 

"Chakotay." 

Kathryn was both surprised and confused at the same time. She hadn't spoken to Chakotay since they had left Voyager, and had no idea what he would need to talk to her about now. 

"Did he leave any message?" she asked. 

"No, sorry, honey." Gretchen watched as Kathryn's posture, if it were possible, drooped even more. Deciding to leave her to her bad mood she made her way back up the stairs, leaving her daughter hunched up on the sofa, hugging her knees. 

Kathryn stayed like that for some time, thoughts racing through her head as to possible reasons Chakotay could have been calling her. You name a scenario, it entered her head. He had finished with Seven... He needed some advice now his trial was over... He wanted to see how she was... He and Seven were getting married... He wanted to apologise for not being in contact earlier... He needed to know why she had abandoned her crew as soon as they got home... 

Endless trains of thought, but no conclusion any more or less likely than the other. Should she call him back? He had left no message. But after all this time to suddenly call out of the blue like that... it must have been important. Maybe something had happened, one of the crew was ill? No, if it were anything serious he'd have given some indication to her mother. 

What would she say to him anyway? She wasn't sure she wanted to hear anything about him and Seven, but she knew that if she were to talk to him she wouldn't have much else on her mind. She just wasn't at the point yet where she could talk about it and pretend to be neutral, assuming she ever would be, so maybe it was better not to talk to him at all. 

Kathryn got up and went to the replicator in the kitchen. Ordering a bowl of coffee ice cream, she sat down at the kitchen table not far from where Molly lay sleeping on the floor. That would be nice, to be able to just lie down and sleep like that. Kathryn felt like she could sleep for days, if only the brass would let her. And if only her thoughts would slow down! She had a feeling sleep would not come easily tonight though; her mind was too full of Chakotay and his call. Sighing, she took the rest of her ice cream upstairs to bed. It would be a long night. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn dragged herself into the office looking absolutely exhausted. As predicted she had tossed and turned all night, and despite already consuming four cups of coffee she still felt as if it would take a cortical stimulator to get her going this morning. 

"Captain," Kessa exclaimed as she saw her, "you look dreadful!" 

"Why thanks for that," Kathryn replied dryly. "I didn't sleep too well." And you still haven't grasped the idea of protocol, she added silently. 

"So I see." Kessa started to fix her superior another cup of coffee as she continued to speak. "Well, I don't know if this will help ease your mind at all, but you got a call here just after you left last night, can't have missed it by more than five minutes." 

"Chakotay." Kathryn said; not a question, a simple statement. She wasn't wrong. 

"He said he tried calling you at your mother's, and tried here when he couldn't reach you. We had a brief conversation, and I was able to answer his questions. He wanted to know why you hadn't been more involved in the hearings for the Maquis crewmembers." 

"What did you say?" 

"I told him Starfleet are keeping you busy with their own business, and haven't left you with enough time to get involved in anything else. I also told him you'd been worried about everyone." 

"Was that it?" 

"Yes, I think so. He thanked me and signed off quickly after that. I hope I didn't say anything out of line." 

"Right." Kathryn tried not to sound too disappointed, but deep down that was exactly how she felt. No matter how irrational she knew it had been, some part of her had still hoped he'd been calling to say it was all off with Seven and that he realised who it was he truly loved. Of course, the intellectual part of her had known that wasn't going to happen, certainly not quite as simply as that. But the part of her that was missing him, reaching out for him every day that she wasn't with him... that part of her was ready to jump at any possible chance to talk to him and convince him to change his mind, to come back to her. 

_Strong-willed, he'd said..._

She needed to stick by her previous decision. She had to let Chakotay find his own happiness. 

No matter how much it hurt. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Chakotay sat thinking over his new job, the details of which were now largely confirmed. He had, in fact, already started. The Academy had required him to do some work preparing curriculum proposals before he took his leave, so now that his resignation from Starfleet was confirmed he had jumped straight into the work. The job really did sound perfect for him. Working as a civilian instructor easily got around any misgivings he'd had about remaining in Starfleet. And, after some consideration, he had decided that Earth was where he wanted to be. He'd only lived on Earth during his time at the Academy, and although he regarded Earth as home he had no ties to keep him there. He only had a handful of blood relatives left, and only one or two were on Earth. However, he had a whole other family now, as close to him as any flesh and blood family had ever been. Of those that he knew about, the majority would be on Earth or within easy reach; most of them had their homes here, and he couldn't imagine them leaving to start new lives elsewhere. So when he'd looked at it that way, what reason did he have to leave? 

Thinking about the rest of their crew and their plans for the future, his thoughts suddenly jumped back to a conversation he'd had with Seven on just that subject. 

Seven. 

With a mixture of feelings he couldn't identify, he realised that he hadn't thought about her in months. More than four months. It had been that long, that long since he had seen her, spoken to her. 

Touched her. 

With all of his thoughts focused on the rest of Voyager's crew, Seven had never crossed his mind. No one else had mentioned her to him, either. Now that he did think about it, he started to realise he had always been thinking about the crew as three groups of people: the 'Starfleet originals', the ex-Maquis and the Equinox crew. Seven didn't fall into any of these categories, so maybe that was how she had escaped his roaming thoughts. Still, it disturbed him somewhat that someone who had had such a presence in his life just prior to their return had so easily dropped to the wayside. 

He hoped someone had been looking out for Seven during the last few months. He knew she had an aunt here on Earth, but Voyager's crew were the only people she had really known since she was six years old. A sense of unease came over him as he realised that Kathryn had always been Seven's closest confidante on Voyager, if indeed Seven had such a thing. Not for the first time, he wondered if Kathryn knew about he and Seven. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed as though she must have. 

_An empty life ahead of me. Alone. Still in love with you..._

Why would she have to be alone if she didn't believe him already taken? So if Kathryn did know, and she felt that way... 

Would she contact Seven? 

And if not, who else would do it? Certainly, Chakotay couldn't recall any specific mention of her by any of the crew he had been housed with. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Seven had been alone these past few months. The thought was an uncomfortable one. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

*DECRYPTION CODE: ACCEPTED* 

To: Commodores Ducci and Salada   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55360.3   
Subject: Captain Kathryn Janeway   
Attachment: Job description and contract details 

As we approach the end of Captain Janeway's review – the last of the proceedings concerning Voyager's crew – I wish to thank you for the good work you have done over the last four months. So that you may be prepared for the coming days, I have attached details of the job Janeway is to be offered for your review. I must emphasise how important it is that this document not be released or discussed with anyone but myself until her hearing concludes. No one must know the predetermined nature of these proceedings. If you have any questions, my door is open to you. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

To: All former Voyager crewmembers   
From: Admiral Muir   
Stardate: 55382.2   
Subject: Completion of debriefing and review process 

Please be advised that all official proceedings concerning your return are now complete. It just remains for me to request that you are careful with any releases you make to the press. We have tried to control the information made publicly available, but as I am sure you are aware, there are always leaks. Finally, welcome home once again. May I wish you all the best for the future, in whatever you have chosen to do. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The grounds of Starfleet Headquarters were heaving as both staff and visitors ran their lunchtime errands; but in amongst the crowds there was one stationary figure. Oblivious to the routine chaos around her, Kathryn Janeway stared up at the building in front of her with it's gleaming windows, trying to work out which one held behind it her new office, and with it, the only concrete part of her new life. 

But even that stability wasn't completely, well, stable. She had two weeks to sort out a few loose ends before she started thirty days' leave. She was glad that she finally had a decent office space to work in, it was going to make it much easier to be organised before her leave started. Her first proper leave in seven years. 

The new office – a replacement for her previous cupboard – and the new aide she was being assigned to replace the hopeless Feho, actually came with a new job she had been offered in preparation for the work on Voyager petering out. Sometime in the months after her return to duty she was to start at Utopia Planitia; a supervisory role, overseeing the work at the establishment. She had heard rumours around the complex that this position, whichever captain was finally awarded it, had always been intended to go hand-in-hand with a promotion to admiral, but she tried not to think about that too much. It certainly hadn't been mentioned in her meeting. What was more important to her was that it would allow her to remain on Earth. Mars wasn't very far to commute, and she wouldn't be needed there everyday anyway. Her base would be her office at headquarters, and she would also spend some time at the Academy updating instructors on the most recent changes in the design specs for new ships so that they could be incorporated into classes. All in all, it seemed the perfect position for her. 

Giving up on counting windows, Kathryn moved to a nearby bench, sat down and closed her eyes with a gentle sigh. It had been one hell of a week. The job offer had come barely a day after the end of her performance review. She still felt a great unease at the commendations she had received in the wake of many of her crew's convictions. Though she still stood by every call she had made over the past seven years, she knew she had made many questionable decisions; decisions that her superiors would have been within their rights to criticise, even condemn. Instead, she had been forced to listen to their praise of her work, their admiration for her dedication and commitment to her promise to get her crew home, as in their summing up the brass had ignored all the 'discretions' they had previously discussed. She knew that she may not have been so lucky had Starfleet not had a tremendous need for heroes these days. She wished the need had been great enough to facilitate the exoneration of her entire crew. 

Of course, she had had to make some apologetic noises concerning some discrepancies, but she couldn't honestly say that in the same situations she had been in in the Delta Quadrant she wouldn't have made the same decisions all over again. Even in the case of Noah Lessing, where she recognised now she had perhaps gone a little too far, she couldn't say with one hundred percent certainty that she wouldn't act the same way now if she were in the same situation. Hindsight may have provided a certain clarity but, as was the general nature of hindsight, temporal mechanics allowing, she hadn't been in possession of that hindsight at the time. 

So her career was safe, flourishing even, and in time she would learn to live with the guilt she felt concerning her friends. Where did that leave her now? Living with her mother, sorting out a few loose ends, and then with thirty days' leave to fill. By the time her leave started it would have been five months since they arrived back on Earth. 

Opening her eyes again Kathryn stared up into the surprisingly cloudless sky, imagining she could see Voyager in orbit up above her. It was almost heart-rending to think that, in seven and a half months' time, Voyager would land never to fly again. The only consolation to this was that her final journey would be made with her crew onboard, and that Kathryn had kept her promise to the ship: Voyager would not be dismantled and torn up for spare parts. Instead she would become a museum, a record of all that had happened aboard her and all who had resided within her hulls. Kathryn still wasn't quite sure how she felt about the idea. Having been told in the same meeting that had produced the job offer, she had barely had time to let the information filter through. One thing she was certain about though – if it stopped them tearing her ship to pieces, it couldn't be all bad. 

Thoughts of Voyager naturally led on to thoughts of her crew. Surprising even herself, Kathryn was worried about being able to see the others again. She hadn't had regular contact with any of the crew for months, except for her work on the Doctor's court case, and hadn't spoken to the ex-Maquis contingent at all since the day they were taken from her. She had been busy with her work, had spent almost every waking hour at HQ, so she had had very little contact with anyone other than her immediate superiors. She allowed herself a little chuckle at the thought that she was worrying more about the reunion with her crew than she had had any chance to about the separation. It had all happened so quickly upon their arrival at Earth that there hadn't been time to think about it. And now here she was, finally able to think about the future. Yet she didn't really know where to start. 

Naturally, her thoughts ran to Chakotay. Kathryn wondered where he was now, and what he was doing. She knew the result of his trial, and that he had taken a teaching post at the Academy. She also knew his leave started this weekend, which meant she didn't have the smallest clue where to contact him now, if indeed she ever decided she would. 

In all honesty, that was still an unlikely scenario. Four and a half months may have passed, but Kathryn still hadn't come to terms with the idea of Chakotay being with Seven. No matter how she had tried to rationalise it, she couldn't get away from the fact that she had always imagined that he would be hers as soon as they got back home. This had not been the homecoming Kathryn had imagined in more ways than one. 

Realising that the day was moving on without her, Kathryn got up and headed for the transporter before she got any more lost in her own thoughts. She had the rest of the day off to recover from her hearing before jumping straight back into work with Voyager tomorrow, and she intended to make the most of it. Starting with a long, hot bath. With a sudden renewed spring in her step at that thought, Kathryn made it to the transporter rooms in record time. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Chakotay sat in the park outside Starfleet Headquarters staring up at the huge complex in front of him – the huge complex that represented everything he was leaving behind. He'd left Starfleet before, but somehow it felt different this time. Maybe it was because he had no personal cause for which to go off and fight, or maybe it was because he wasn't really leaving Starfleet behind - he may not be visiting HQ again anytime soon, but he was going to be seeing a lot of the Academy. 

Or maybe it felt different because of the people he was leaving behind. It wasn't so much that he didn't get on well with the crews he had worked with before leaving to join the Maquis, but more that other ships had never had the same sense of family as Voyager. Tom, B'Elanna, Harry, the Doc, Kathryn... 

Kathryn. If no one else, that building definitely reminded him of Kathryn. It was everything she had always stood for. 

Freedom. 

Equality. 

Protection. 

And yet it wasn't. A life in Starfleet was almost the very opposite of freedom. Devote your life to Starfleet and you pledge your life, yourself, to their protocols, their regulations, their... parameters. That word still brought back memories. 

Equality. What was equal about an organisation that only accepted the best of the best into its ranks? What was equal about an organisation that, as a matter of course, chose who was to live and who was to die. 

And protection. Protecting whom? Their own? Certainly not his own people, his blood relatives. They protected the weak, but only when it suited them; or so it had seemed to him. 

So why did he still want to work for them? 

_I did it for one reason, Chakotay._

Why did everything point back to Kathryn? 

His train of thought was interrupted by someone speaking his name from behind him. 

"Chakotay." 

The tone and inflection in the voice were unmistakable, as was the feeling it invoked within him. 

Disappointment. 

Suddenly, it became all too clear what he had to do. 

"Seven, sit down." 

Seven opened her mouth to tell him she was happy to stand, but quickly thought better of it and uncomfortably lowered herself to the ground beside him. 

"How've you been?" 

"I have been doing quite well. And you?" 

"Not so bad, I think things are finally starting to slot together. I heard you were going to continue working for Starfleet." 

"Yes, I will be starting work in the Engineering Department at Starfleet Headquarters. It will be different to working on Voyager, but I am looking forward to the challenge." 

"I'm happy for you, Seven." 

"Thank you. I haven't heard much about your own position, what will you be doing?" 

"I've accepted a position at the Academy, teaching palaeontology and a little about the cultures of the Delta Quadrant." 

"So we'll both be in San Francisco." 

An uneasy silence followed, as Chakotay reacted to what Seven had said and decided it had to be done now. He had to get this sorted, there was no use putting it off. 

"Seven, there's something I have to talk to you about. It's about us..." 

"You do not wish to continue our relationship," Seven interrupted. 

Chakotay was slightly taken aback, both by her boldness and by her perception. Then again, maybe he shouldn't have expected anything less; and maybe he had been silent for longer than he had thought. 

"No," he confirmed, "I don't. I'm sorry, it's not that it hasn't been good getting to know you better, it's just that..." 

"You have realised that in the long-term, I am not the one who can make you happy." 

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Just how perceptive was Seven? Was she simply saying that she _wasn't _the one, or had she worked out the truth about his feelings for Kathryn? Did she know about Kathryn's feelings for him? 

_I love you with everything in me..._

"You sound like you already knew that, like you were waiting for this to happen." 

"I have been aware of the possibility. Over the last months I have come to learn more about friendship than the Doctor would ever have been able to teach me aboard Voyager. I have watched the crew turn to each other for support as things grew difficult, but as things grew difficult for me, as I became apprehensive about my own future, I felt no need to share these feelings with you. The fact that you did not discuss your fears with me makes me suspect that you had no need for my company either. I am unaccustomed to being in a relationship but I believe that we both know now that this is not right for us." 

A nod of his head was all the confirmation she needed from Chakotay, and it was all the confirmation she was going to get as his communicator bleeped to let him know someone was trying to contact him. He took the call before returning his full attention to Seven. 

"I'm sorry, that was the academic secretary reminding me about my meeting with the curriculum committee this afternoon. I have to go." 

Despite her earlier self-assuredness, Seven showed a brief moment of unease at Chakotay's imminent departure. She hadn't been in a relationship before, and she certainly didn't know how the end of one was supposed to go. She had no idea what she was expected to say or do, so for the first time in this conversation she let Chakotay take the lead. 

"I'll see you around, I'm sure. Something tells me Voyager's crew will be together more than some of our superiors, or ex-superiors, would like." 

"We were a unique crew, on a unique journey. It is... logical." 

"I hope everything goes well for you, Seven." 

"Likewise, Chakotay. Goodbye." 

"Bye." 

As Chakotay walked away from Seven and headed back to the Academy, he started to feel a new anticipation for his own future, and some small hope that maybe he could work things out. With Kathryn. He was gambling on a lot; that she still felt the same after these past months back on Earth; that she was willing to give him another chance after his recent follies with the ex-Borg - his second ex-Borg; and that despite their many differences, they would be able to make a relationship work, and last. 

He was gambling a lot, he was gambling his heart, his body, his soul. But something deep inside told him it was worth it. She was worth it. And he believed it.   
  
  



	3. Dark Clouds and Silver Linings by LA

Dark Clouds and Silver Linings Disclaimer: Paramount owns all things Trek. Despite that, neither Tom nor B'Elanna have too much to complain about. We fans, on the other hand…   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Highly ambivalent about their return, Tom and B'Elanna begin their lives as parents by losing the Voyager family they had come to trust and depend upon. Could mending the broken bonds with their own parents be the key to easing their readjustment? And Kathryn and Chakotay find that Fate is still dealing their cards, shuttling them back to the one true thing in both their lives.   
Author's Note: I would like to thank the editors, Cassatt and Shayenne, for the opportunity they afforded me by inviting me onto this project. My disappointments over the ending of Voyager were greatly alleviated as we all worked feverishly to answer the questions most prominently posed in the last half-season of the show. This aptly named Fixit is like mental therapy that you can read! 

As always, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my Collective--Barb, BR, and Liz--who not only convinced me I _had_ to do this despite my time constraints, they also sat up many a night waving the "Go, Girl!" banners when I was flagging! I've polled their opinions at crossroads, sipped their cyber-coffee at "crunch times", and trusted their impeccable betas always. Look for them between the lines, because my words are woven through with their care and concern. Thanks, ladies--humble and heartfelt. 

Dark Clouds and Silver Linings   
_Copyright September 2001 by LA_ __

Tom ran from the bridge with his new title. 

Someone's father. 

At first, in the turbo, he wasn't sure he could stand properly. So much had happened in the last half hour! Despite attaining the goal they had fought, worked, and sweat so hard for over seven years—shattering all odds—Tom was surprised to find his mind fixating on the one twist that fate had flung his way without warning. 

He could not reconcile the images, within himself, of the father he had just seen and the father he had just become. God! What were the chances that after a decade's time he'd have to deal with the man and all their combined baggage again at this very moment? _About as slim as the chance that Voyager would ever make it home again_, he laughed aloud into the descending lift, _so there you go!_

There was a strange, quiet fellow in their old Maquis cell—what was his name?—that had that stock phrase whenever anything went wrong at the worst possible time. He'd wait for the cursing to die down, then his soft lisp would waft across the room. "And the gods laughed," he'd say. Tom never understood that guy. Until now. He shook his head to clear it. 

He couldn't worry about his father right now. He couldn't spoil the moment. Tom smiled then. _The_ moment. Could it have finally come, for real? After all those false starts, even after hearing her tiny voice—his eyes welled up at the thought, insanely proud that all their friends had heard it, too—he still couldn't picture it yet. 

A father. 

It was so unreal. Your wife gets bigger, and she seems to sense things about the soggy little person hiding out inside her that you just don't feel for some reason. And it's alive, for certain, because it kicks your arm half the night while you cuddle with your spouse. At least, until the warpcore-like heat radiating off her drives you away. And you name it, and scan it, and see it in holos… 

But just like when you were a kid, the birthday present wasn't real until the wrapping was torn off and you held it. The same giddy rush of excitement came back to Tom Paris, only a thousand-fold because this joy was shared, and when the turbolift doors opened onto Deck 5… 

Tom ran. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

One step into sickbay, he found himself unable to move. He was vaguely aware that the doors closed behind him. He felt his hand come up to his mouth which was hanging open, and heard the whir of a holoimager capturing a scene—several whirs, several scenes. He heard a sigh that must have been his own. 

And his heart took a picture. 

B'Elanna sat cross-legged on the biobed, her flushed face a mirror of the giddiness he knew well from the turbolift. She looked…incredible! Her sweaty hair had begun to dry, frizzing slightly on the ends. The skin beneath her eyes formed dark circles of weariness, and her eyes themselves were bloodshot from the tremendous exertion of birthing a baby. Their baby. 

But the diffusion lighting in the bay behind her refracted through the frizz, forming a halo around her and putting Tom in mind of the famous Madonna paintings. And her face shone with the rush of the occasion, making her seem to glow like the ancient Vulcan Truth Goddesses. And in that moment that he would carry with him forever, she was all those things, and more. She looked…incredible! 

A startled mewling broke his spell as B'Elanna tipped the blue bundle toward him. A tiny, wet arm shot out, causing the swaddling to fall away from the most perfect thing he had ever laid eyes on. 

"Tom, look what we did!" B'Elanna said with awe, smiling excitedly. 

"Aww, she's perfect! I-I mean…she's just _perfect_!" he hurried to sit on the bed beside them both, one hand reaching to cradle the baby's crown, the other catching onto the flailing fist. B'Elanna reached out to run her palm across both sides of Tom's face tenderly, wiping at tear tracks he hadn't even been aware of. 

B'Elanna giggled conspiratorially. "Can you believe this?" 

"What I'm believing right now is that I love you, B'Elanna." He leaned forward to kiss her firmly, letting go of the baby's fist to cup the back of his wife's head. "I love you, and I love you, and I love you," he smooshed against her mouth as she laughed. 

Suddenly, they felt two hands remove the baby from between them. 

"Be careful—you're going to drop her!" The Doctor pulled the small body to his chest. He looked up to see identical neutral expressions staring at him and belatedly felt embarrassed by his exaggerated concern. "I'll just…hold her while you two…continue with your happiness," he finished lamely. 

Tom and B'Elanna exchanged a meaningful glance. 

"Sam warned us about you, Doc," Tom admitted, but warmly. "You gonna let her old man hold her sometime today, or what?" 

"Give me the baby back and no one gets hurt," B'Elanna monotoned, but her eyes shone kindly. 

"Ah, yes—I forgot," he smiled gently passing the infant back to her mother. 

"Forgot what?" Tom asked, trying to be patient and not snatch the baby from his wife's arms right then and there. As it turned out, his wait was not long. 

B'Elanna held the baby out, leaning in close to her husband. Tom kissed her tiny ridges; they were so much softer than he had imagined! "We haven't spoken her name yet. I wanted to wait for you to be here." They both smiled. 

As was the Klingon tradition to scream an honorable death to Sto-Vo-Kor to announce the arrival of a warrior, it was also the ritual to announce a noble birth to one's friends and enemies. Though not overly religious, both Tom and B'Elanna had liked the idea enough to modify it to fit their personal needs. 

"Would you…?" Tom offered. B'Elanna smiled and finally, finally handed his daughter over to him. 

"I'm too tired to make such a big fuss—go ahead," she leaned back against the headboard the doctor had quietly attached while they spoke. She smiled, and Tom hit his commbadge. 

"Paris to the bridge." There was a considerable pause. 

"Go ahead, Dad," Janeway's voice drawled. They could hear laughter ripple across the excited hubbub in the background, making B'Elanna chuckle. 

"Captain, I, ah…" Tom started, but looking at his beautiful daughter, he found himself too choked up to continue. B'Elanna reached out to squeeze his wrist and nod to him. 

He took a deep breath. "We know you're all a little busy up there right now. But, B'Elanna and I would like our friends and loved ones to join us in the naming of the baby." He cleared his throat and spoke loudly to the comm system. 

"Welcome to this world," for the traditional 'honorable warriors', Tom substituted, appropriately, "of epic Voyagers, Miral Kathryn Paris, daughter of B'Elanna and Thomas. A worthy addition to our House!" 

"Here, here," they heard Harry exclaim, followed by raucous cheering. "And, judging by the look on her face," their best friend continued, "I'm betting you never informed the captain of your final name choice." 

"Tom, B'Elanna, congratulations. And on behalf of Voyager and the crew, I welcome Miral Kathryn…into our ranks." Her voice caught on the pronunciation of her own name then the commlink went quiet. After a brief pause Harry came over once again. 

"She went to the briefing room, guys. Between the excitement up here and naming the baby after her, I think you guys got to her," he said with understanding. "I'll be down as soon as I can. Hey, B'Elanna—I can almost see my parents' house from here!" he joked. The commlink closed. 

B'Elanna turned to her husband, mouth hanging open. "You mean we made it all the way? Sector 001?" The Doctor joined them at the bedside now, as interested as his patient in the answer. 

Tom had rested his cheek on Miral's head during Harry's pronouncement and he rocked her gently, forward and back. 

"One lightyear from Earth itself," he finally said, strangely crestfallen. He pulled the sleeping baby off his shoulder to look into her face, and smiled. "God, B'Elanna, she's amazing." His smile faded slightly. 

"Too bad getting home had to go and ruin a perfect day." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

One-handed, Tom opened Miral's file in the Doc's database. 

"Bowel functions normal, first stool 1900 hours," he looked resignedly at his other hand. _One down_, the christened new father thought_, only about 5,000 more to go before potty training_. B'Elanna laughed to herself as she lay the baby on the biobed between her legs in order to clean her. 

"What a beautiful present, sweetie! I'm sure your Daddy appreciates it," she enthused to her oblivious daughter. 

"Yeah, but you could have started with something smaller—Daddy wouldn't have minded. In fact, it's the thought that counts, Miral," Tom shot back, and they both laughed, not realizing they were being observed. 

"So, she's giving you both crap already, huh?" the deep voice rumbled from the office doorway. 

"Chakotay!" B'Elanna held out her arms for her friend and he moved happily toward her. He clapped Tom on the back as he passed. 

"I'd shake your hand, Big Guy, but…" 

"Oh, rest assured, I would _never_ accept that gift from _you_, Paris," he joked, though with a hint of truth, and the laughter renewed itself. He leaned down to hug B'Elanna gently, but firmly. 

Miral made a tiny guttural noise beneath their arms. The new mother leaned back from her friend. She smiled proudly and nodded down to her daughter in invitation. 

"Well." He sighed softly over the wriggling form. "B'Elanna, you always told me you were no artist; I have to dispute that. This is some masterpiece you've made here." 

"Thank you." 

He reached to pick her up but B'Elanna interrupted him. "Unless you want a present too, Uncle Chakotay, you'd better wait for me to put this on her." She held up a swatch of cloth smaller than a standard tissue. 

"Wow. So tiny." 

"As long as it's bigger than my hand, we're alright," Tom called from the recycler. 

"You're our first visitor—how did you get the captain to let you go?" the new mother asked. 

"I piped up the quickest and took advantage of my rank," he deadpanned. "That means I asked first and was the most expendable right now," his eyes danced as he clarified. 

"I think you were probably expendable long before now," B'Elanna returned his jest. "I understand Tom had to fly this crate through the conduits, but why weren't you at least here to help me? I mean, what good is the First Officer to operations when the only order was probably, 'Hang on!'" 

"Oh, I'm betting the orders down here would have been pretty much the same. At least on the bridge, nothing got broken," he waggled his fingers lithely. "But I do regret that we all couldn't be here for you—then, and now." 

"Yeah, well, I had expected to see you last week, too, bearing some secret tribal remedy for my screaming back pain." 

"I said I'm sorry B'Elanna," he replied, a small grin playing on the corners of his mouth. 

"Yeah, well, maybe it's just not enough. I think you might have to give up some time and babysit or something to make up for it," she mumbled over her task, though Chakotay caught the edges of her grin. 

B'Elanna finished diapering and lifted the baby gently into the large hands of her oldest friend. A sense of contentment swept over her to watch the quiet man's huge paw rub the tiny back tenderly. 

They traded barbs a bit longer and everything seemed fairly normal, though subdued. Then Tom brought up the question of Admiral Janeway's motivations. It was innocent speculation, the same that everyone had been intent upon the last several days, but Chakotay seemed bothered by it, his eyes shifting aimlessly as if the it were all new to him, somehow. 

Never one to mince words well, Tom used the word 'apologize' when suggesting that Chakotay hadn't been terribly attentive to command matters, or the captain, during recent events. For a moment, B'Elanna thought she sensed fear in her friend, defensiveness. But just as quickly as it had come, it vanished, and the mask he had worn recently as his normal mein was once again in place. He seemed flat and listless to B'Elanna. 

"B'Elanna, Tom, you take care of your lovely daughter. I have something I need to go do. And maybe I'll be able to find out some answers for you." 

He kissed B'Elanna's forehead, and she was tremendously touched when he reached a giant palm down to scrub Miral's ridges in instant familiarity. But that distraction was there still. The steady calm that normally emanated from him was dissonant, and it cast a pall on B'Elanna's happiness in the wake of his departure. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

They didn't say anything for a moment after the door swished closed. B'Elanna had that look on her face, the one that says she's been proven right, or has determinedly made up her mind. 

"Did you see? Did you see him? Still think we're over-reacting?" They had spent more than a little of their quiet time lately pondering the strange behavior of the First Officer. B'Elanna had become mildly concerned about him shortly after their return from Quarra. 

His affect seemed to be off, she had said—she no longer felt the warmth that he exuded naturally in the presence of his friends. 

Then she saw and heard about Jaffen and she became downright worried. In fact, her quiet but gregarious friend seemed to avoid any meaningful interaction with anyone whatsoever. She and Tom paid attention to his dealings with Janeway. If you didn't know them well, you could assume that everything was business as usual. 

If you didn't know either of them well. But between B'Elanna and Tom, they had the market cornered on the command team. They agreed that both parties had been very distant to each other in recent months. 

"Something's wrong, Tom—I'm telling you, he's not right. I should have made you scan him for drugs, or something," she mumbled and began to do arm curls with the baby cradled on her forearms, little head in her hands, feet by her elbows. Miral was becoming fussy. Her mother knew the feeling. 

"Forget drugs. Remember that movie I made you watch a while back, about the 'pod people'?" 

"Don't even joke like that. After all the things we've seen on Voyager, that's well within the realm of possibility." 

Tom shook his head. He plunked down on the bed next to his wife, watching the baby gently rise and fall. 

"I don't know what we can do about it, B'Elanna. Every time you've broached the subject of Chakotay _with_ Chakotay, he clams up. Then he does just enough to get us off his back—like come to dinner. Then the next day, it's 'business as _unusual_' again on the bridge." 

"I know. I just…when I was depressed he knew just how to draw me out. I feel like I'm failing him somehow now, not being able to reach him." 

Tom looked down as she spoke of the depression. It was still a difficult period in their relationship for him to dredge up. He felt he had failed her by not noticing her injuries sooner, by missing the symptoms of mental distress. By not being the one to drag her back into the light, to acceptance. 

That was part of the reason for his instant support of her concerns about Chakotay. He never wanted her to feel as paralyzed and helpless as he had been then. And he still felt he owed the Old Man a debt of gratitude for facing B'Elanna and all her furies head on then, without flinching. 

He squeezed her shoulder. "You can't make someone stop lying to you, B'Elanna. First, he has to stop lying to himself." 

"Don't I know it," she murmured darkly. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Janeway sneaked in through the lab entrance. It was, after all, the middle of the night. Her tour of the ship turned up more activity than usual, understandably, but for the most part everyone's adrenaline rush had worn off and they slept. 'In peace, finally', she silently thanked her future self. 

She crept through the office toward the darkened sickbay. She only wanted to see them, B'Elanna and the baby, to study the little girl in the dark and decide, 'whose eyes, whose chin?' To walk close to B'Elanna's bed and look at her for a moment, to be with her now the way she couldn't be earlier. To catch up with Tom if he were still awake, enjoy the glow on his face as he talked about his new family. 

Gliding silently through the doorway, Janeway smiled broadly, because she had forgotten one simple fact. She forgot that babies don't wear chronometers. 

B'Elanna was sitting up in bed with a boneless chicken on her lap. Miral was leaned forward drunkenly, prevented from falling by her mother's hand beneath her chin, half-encircling her neck. The other hand patted her back rhythmically, filling the room with a low thrumming sound. 

"Oh, B'Elanna!" Janeway whispered, mindful of the snoring father on biobed three. 

B'Elanna just smiled, her hands being occupied at the moment, and accepted the 'group hug' Janeway bestowed on them. 

Janeway let them go and leaned back, gasping anew at the sight of Miral. Miral Kathryn. 

"B'Elanna—look what you two did!" she murmured in awe, smiling. B'Elanna tossed her head back and laughed. 

"Bet you never thought you'd _ever_ say that sentence in relation to Tom and me and mean it in a _good_ way!" 

Janeway admonished her with a glance, but laughed just the same. 

"I was surprised when the computer told me you were still here. I had expected you would want to sleep in your own bed and put her in the cradle her father fussed over so much." Janeway couldn't seem to stop smiling. 

"Yeah, well, with her mixed heritage, the Doctor wanted to monitor her for a few hours. It just seemed less disruptive to stay the night after that. It doesn't really matter which bed I'm _not_ sleeping in anyway, does it?" They chuckled some more together. 

The captain ran the back of a finger gently down one soft cheek as B'Elanna continued her ministrations. She felt the loss, now, of having missed the birth. _Everything came at a price, _she thought wearily. _And everything lately cost too much._

"I'm so sorry Tom couldn't be here, B'Elanna. I knew what I was asking him to miss, and it killed me to have to do it." She looked so regretful that the engineer couldn't even work up any resentment. 

"Hey, we're alive, so…I understand." Janeway didn't look placated, just worse for the concession. More drastic measures were called for. "Your tactical timing _was_ pretty shitty, though," she bobbed her head to catch the captain's eye. Janeway blinked in surprise, then smiled once again. 

"Agreed! But it looks like you did well." 

"I've definitely had more fun times in my life, but the Doctor was actually wonderful. You should have seen him!" She sobered a bit. "It was definitely not what I expected. Not the birth itself, I mean, but…Tom and I both had looked forward to having the family present—you, and Chakotay. Harry, if he could have stood it," she added jokingly. "I'm just kidding—he would have been great, I know it; head cheerleader of the Delta Quadrant!" 

"Next time," Janeway promised. 

"Oh, go to Gre'thor!" B'Elanna shot out in shock. "Give me some time to adjust here!" 

"While we're in this frame of mind," the captain said mischievously, "speaking of births, I have something to tell you that you may appreciate. Since time and distance are immeasurable in the conduits, we couldn't ascertain for you exactly where Miral was born, though half the bridge crew tried a bit ago. So we decided that, for the record books, Miral may claim the longest birth canal journey in all of history," she smiled wickedly. 

"Well, it certainly felt like it!" 

B'Elanna finished burping the baby and without preamble handed her over to the captain. Janeway called for a holographic lounge chair alongside B'Elanna's bed, then promptly curled up in it, facing her ship's chief. They looked like matching bookends, which was appropriate. Janeway was the brains of Voyager, but B'Elanna was her heart. Janeway looked out for the welfare of Voyager's crew, but it was the chief who looked out for Voyager herself. 

"Well," Janeway finally murmured, looking into the little face in her lap. "First night sitting up with your baby." 

"And maybe your last, with yours" B'Elanna said sympathetically. Janeway smiled, a little sadly. 

"Yes." She felt anxiety clutch at her, then. The end of her command. The thought that they could all be home, perhaps as early as tomorrow night, both thrilled and frightened her. She worried about what would become of her Voyager, who had done whatever she had begged of the old girl, and often so much more. She wanted to gather the crew to her like she held Miral now, because at least in the Delta Quadrant they faced their dangers together. For the ex-Maquis, for the five people from Equinox, this was no longer the case. They would be alone. 

"We'll be fine," B'Elanna read her thoughts. "What are they going to do—throw the book at us? I think they're going to consider time served aboard Voyager as a special punishment in its own right and then slap our wrists. To them, this was the 'ship of the damned'." They both snorted half-heartedly at the jab. But Janeway saw through the new mother. 

"Good try, but I'm not buying the cavalier act. I know you consider Voyager your home, with Tom. You had both begun to look forward to raising your own little voyager here, and now at the moment of your greatest personal triumph," she raised the little fists that held her thumbs into the air slightly, "fate throws you back to the wolves, so to speak. I know you B'Elanna; you won't go into the good night so easily." 

"You're right about that, Captain—if they want me they're definitely going to have to work for it at the prosecutor's table. But you're also wrong about something else." She smiled honestly. "I don't consider Voyager to be my home, with Tom. I consider Tom to be my home, on Voyager. And I'm going to miss the hell out of my family here—the only one I've ever had that remained true to me—but wherever I go with Tom, and now Miral, I _will_ be home." 

Seven years ago—hell, two years ago—B'Elanna would have felt embarrassed to express herself that freely. And she definitely would have been at a loss to see Kathryn Janeway so close to tears. But she had grown so much in that time, spiritually and emotionally, that both events simply made her feel alive, and secure. 

"'Lanna, you deserve so many good things in your life. I think…despite what happens over the next few months, you're going to find that the tide has turned for you, from now on." 

"Yes, Ma'am," she used her husband's favorite phrase of affection. 

They sat in companionable quiet for some time then, letting the atmosphere settle. Miral, who had fallen asleep, reawakened, but seemed content for the moment to stare at her secondary namesake. Janeway spoke foolishly to her, as grown people are wont to do, and quietly expressed how humbled she was to hear the baby's name on the bridge. 

B'Elanna's face remained serious. "She was named for the two most important women in my life—the one who raised me, and the one who gave me a second chance. And Tom feels the same. There was never a question about the 'Kathryn' part." She hesitated momentarily, loathe to intensify emotions again. She looked into her deflated lap. "I just wish my mother could have known everything." 

She felt a hand caress her forearm. When it reached to her wrist, she turned her palm up and let Janeway place hers atop it. They both smiled lightly. "It's okay. You know I've made my peace with her," B'Elanna reassured. 

B'Elanna had been strangely calm when she received the news of Miral's death during a senseless terrorist attack at her research laboratory on Qo'noS. Janeway had been informed of the message's content before her engineer was called in—standard procedure for relaying a death in the family—and had stayed with her and Tom to offer them support. The younger woman's control as the messenger droned on with the details had disturbed Janeway, and upset Tom greatly. He worried that she was in a dangerous denial that could lead her to depression, an enemy she had battled in the past. She even thanked the representative on the link, then asked Janeway for a little time to adjust to the news. 

They followed her back to Tom and her quarters, trying to draw her out, but she seemed tranquil. At the door, she turned to her protectors and took Tom's hand. 

"Check the stardates," she had said into her captain's eyes, then entered her quarters with her husband. 

Minutes later in her ready room, Janeway had found herself chilled to the bone, having discovered that Miral's death occurred the morning they nearly lost B'Elanna in a shuttle accident—a time during which she claimed to have met with her mother on the mythical Barge of the Dead. 'Mythical' suddenly became a term open for debate. 

The heat from the half-dozing baby in her lap was lulling Janeway to sleep herself. She shifted in the chair. 

"You _can_ put her down, you know. I think she's ready for good snooze now, anyway…one can hope," B'Elanna half-smiled. 

"Oh! That reminds me!" Janeway placed the baby in the monitoring isolette by her mother's opposite side and poked into the office quickly to retrieve the bundle she had dropped on the desk. She spoke softly as she walked back to the bedside. 

"On Naomi's, I stitched daisies and plinkorels and other flowers from Earth and Ktaria. But somehow, I thought your daughter might need something a little different," she chuckled lightly. 

The homemade blanket was luxuriously soft and satiny, B'Elanna noticed first. As she unfolded it, she was greeted by a parade of teddy bears and protective-looking targs marching dutifully around the border. They were all heading for one location. In the top left corner, surrounded by planets from both the Sol and Qo'noS systems, was an embossed Voyager, sleek-lined, all silver and blue, making B'Elanna gasp softly. 

"Shining Voyager, close to home." 

"Yes. But now Miral will always have her, won't she?" Janeway whispered. B'Elanna didn't thank her; she didn't need to. It was written nakedly on her face. They covered the sleeping infant with the captain's creation. "Let me know if I can do anything," she said, turning to leave. 

Perhaps it was the personal gift, or the equally intimate company. But of all the worries she had been contemplating when the captain arrived—the troubles in engineering, the impending break-up of the crew, her criminal responsibilities or Tom's—she risked bringing up the one topic the captain might have some control over. 

"Chakotay's been off, lately. There isn't…anything you'd want to tell me, is there?" 

"Like what?" Janeway almost froze but tried to answer the way she would have without the cursed knowledge of him and Seven. 

B'Elanna's disappointed eyes told her she hadn't entirely succeeded. 

"Fine. I won't pry. But you two are running out of time. You should solve whatever the problem is. Don't think Tom and I haven't noticed." 

The irony of that, Janeway thought to herself, was that _she _would never have seen it, if not for the Admiral. She wanted to tell B'Elanna that her and Chakotay's time had passed without warning them. A decision had now been made. 

_'Kathryn? Are you all right?'_

_'An empty life ahead of me. Still in love with you.'_

"While he was here," the engineer continued on relentlessly, "we asked him why the Admiral felt that now was the time to do this, but it was obvious he hadn't considered the question yet," she shook her head. "Did it have to be today of all days? We can't believe that in seven years of travelling we haven't passed other hubs we could have used, especially when we were in the heart of Borg space. Is there something crucial to this time period? For instance, did she need to ensure Miral's conception? Was it necessary that we contact one of the species that we did in the last three years?" 

_'To answer that, I'd have to tell you more than you want to know.'_

_'It's almost as if there were some other reason to do it. At least that's how it looks in hindsight._

"I'm sure she had her reasons." Janeway answered, uncomfortable in the extreme with this turn in the conversation. 

She had started to rise to take her leave, when B'Elanna lamented, "You know, I know it's selfish but a part of me is angry with her for not getting here in time to help Joe. The timing was so close; what difference could a couple of weeks have made?" 

_'Of course, if I hadn't miscalculated…'_

And in a blinding flash, Kathryn Janeway understood it all, everything. The technology the Admiral had not been fully familiar with. The attacking Klingon vessels, introducing stray energy into the space. The sheer complexity of the calculations that she would have had to make alone, to avoid implicating anyone else. 

A month's time would have prevented Joe's death. A month's time, she realized, seeing the missing piece clearly now, would have allowed her to circumvent Chakotay and Seven from ever forming a bond. A month's time would have allowed her a chance to soften up her younger counterpart. 

The month's loss had accelerated the Admiral's plan of action considerably—she'd had no time to spare on too many niceties. Three weeks of planned work crammed into three days. What difference, indeed, Janeway thought bitterly! 

She had a lot to contemplate. 

"We could both use some sleep. I'm sure you'll want to be back in the thick of the repairs tomorrow morning, but just promise me you won't overdo it. I've made arrangements for Tom to assist you until further notice, so just relax and enjoy your new family, 'Lanna." 

"Kathryn," B'Elanna called quickly. Janeway turned, trying to hide the surprise she felt at hearing her given name. 

"I just want to tell you…despite everything…it's been a pleasure serving with you." She stared at her captain. 

Janeway crossed back quickly and hugged B'Elanna with feeling. "B'Elanna, I'm so proud of you." Then she smiled crookedly and added, clarifying the conference room discussion they had had the day her mother 'died', "For more than your engineering skills." And B'Elanna smiled back, confident. 

"Then we'll see you on Earth?" 

"You'll see me on Earth." 

Kathryn Janeway managed to make it out to the passageway before she began to shake. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"There are my girls," Tom sidled up to B'Elanna in the darkened mess hall, his mushy tone of voice conveying how totally besotted he was with the very idea. His girls. B'Elanna rolled her eyes, but had to smile. The fool. 

"You know, you've been walking around this ship lately—no, make that floating—like you are doped on euphoria; it's embarrassing. I'll give you until we get to Earth, then that's it—you'll have to get over it," she stifled a squeak and scrunched her head to her shoulders. Tom's nose tickled the back of her neck as he stole a quick kiss on her nape. He simply pushed his face more firmly into the fortress she had erected. 

"I've got a news flash for you—I am _never_ going to get over this." He nipped her once, lightly, and hopped over the back of the sofa, falling in close to her. He bumped her forehead with his own and planted a proper kiss on her lips before glancing at his daughter. 

"What—she eating _again_?!" 

B'Elanna was stoic. "Every hour, on the hour practically, which is why you take the night feedings, _which_ I'd like to remind you start after this one ends. Or is that why you tracked us down?" 

'Tracking down' was a stretch of the imagination, really. 'Light duty' and the hubbub and the excitement of their return vied for the chief engineer's attention. She felt isolated in their quarters, but was able to keep up with the action and happenings nicely from her office in engineering, and here on the corner couches in the mess hall. In fact, other than sleeping, she could generally be found in one of those two locations. 

"I don't need an excuse to spend time with my family!" he said with mock insult. This was true—he had sought them out every odd moment of the day he could. The captain had made him the glorified errand boy for the bridge, and he loved every second of freedom, cheerfully doing the captain's bidding, when not with his wife, and coming and going as he pleased, keeping his combadge open for the occasional request. 

Manning the helm was another stretch of the imagination. The autopilot could be engaged as they limped along in a straight line to Earth with their ever-changing compliment of 'fleet ships and runabouts providing honor-escort. But that worked to their advantage—Tom spent the majority of his time helping B'Elanna by day in engineering and sleeping in the rocking chair with the hungry baby half the night. 

And one would think he was Master of the Universe to see him do it, too. Actually, B'Elanna was a bit concerned by his boundless happiness, considering what lay at the end of the trip, when they did arrive at Earth. She desperately hoped he wasn't hiding his fears again, for her sake. 

Tom half-turned toward her, crossing his legs and putting his left arm across the back of the couch, over her shoulders. He absently scrubbed the baby's foot between his palm and fingers. "Harry's in the big chair right now. We were chewing the fat before I came off-shift, and he got a request for docking, from a shuttle of 'fleet engineers. Looks like the 'dog and pony-cart' show is about to begin," he finished, with resignation. 

"Well, what do they want—to help with repairs? At this hour it can't be good. Question us about the systems? Like we have the time right now—" she began to get heated. 

"Calm down. I didn't wait around to find out; I wanted to get down here and give you a heads up." 

"You could have done that over the comm," she smirked at his transparency. 

"Ah, but I would have missed the chance to see _my girls_," he finished with the same foolish mush-voice the conversation had started with. She thought of John Torres as she looked at her husband, and had second thoughts about having Tom 'get over it'. 

"You're an idiot, but I love you." Her softened features belied the harsh word. "Now, I'm calling Nicoletti. I may need you to take Miral sooner tha—" 

Tom gasped, so softly she nearly missed it. But there was no missing the look in his eyes, or how his face paled as if he would faint. He gripped her right hand tightly with his and pulled her shoulder closer to himself. She felt him tense up. 

"What?" she blinked, turning to see where he stared. 

She hadn't heard the door swish open. In the entry, silhouetted by the passageway lighting stood Harry, off to the side…and three women. Two younger ones flanked a diminutive older woman with copper colored hair that was run through with silver. The younger pair pressed against her back; a necessity it seemed, as her shaking was visible from across the room. There was something familiar about them, B'Elanna thought… 

"Mom!" Tom whispered hoarsely. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"Moira. Kathleen," he tried to say, but his breath caught in his throat and all he could manage was strangled syllables. 

For several seconds no one moved. The two parties stared at each other, each content to drink in the other for a moment, savoring the view. But the moment passed and everyone seemed at a loss. 

It had been so long. The sisters hesitated, not wishing to usurp their mother for the first hug. Tom rose slowly on gelatinous legs, helping B'Elanna as she struggled to rise with Miral and break the nursing suction of the sleeping infant at the same time. 

The sight moved the older woman into gear. Before the young couple could take a step, she was standing before B'Elanna, a hand cupping the engineer's forearm gently. Tom didn't move. 

"B'Elanna, I'm Anne Grace Paris. You call me whatever you're comfortable with, but I hope someday you'll find me worthy of calling 'Mom'." 

Years of speculation about what happened in the Paris household, and this woman's role in those events, went out the window as B'Elanna looked into her waiting gaze. She didn't feel that the introduction was a rehearsed bit of diplomacy, aimed to put the 'new Klingon family member' at ease. Anne was being earnest. 

A furtive glance around told her some response was needed to break the spell. She smiled carefully, but genuinely. "Mrs.—Anne, I'm very happy to meet you." 

And with that, Tom seized his mother up in a tremendous hug, lifting her clean off the floor. The laughing began, and then it was hard to stop. 

Smiling to himself, Harry stepped back to let the doors to the mess hall close. He'd get the full story from his friends tomorrow. He had to get back to the bridge. 

Introductions were made with Moira and Kathleen, and the women took turns admiring the baby and hugging their brother. 

The sisters made fun of Tom's newly forming wrinkles, his increased girth, and his receding hairline. Apparently, he was beginning to look like 'Uncle Don'. 

"You should be talking, Kathleen, the String Bean. I'm gonna have to find a new nickname for you!" Tom exclaimed, attempting to hug around the pregnant bulge in his eldest sister's middle. "Now, what did you write me again—October, right?" 

"The third. We're hoping it's a girl," the fair-haired, friendly Kathleen turned to B'Elanna excitedly. "It better be a girl, so these two can counterbalance Moi's monsters." She indicated her belly and the sleeping Miral. B'Elanna noticed that nobody stared overly much at the baby's ridges. They didn't avoid looking at her, quite the contrary. But none of the women stared abjectly. 

Moira laughed along with her sister and rolled her eyes. "What a couple of birds they are, Tommy. Those two boys of mine are worse than the three of us used to be together, right Mom?" 

Anne considered, smiling lightly. "Mmm, I can't decide if that's true or if I'm just less tolerant of all that chaotic energy at my age," she said diplomatically. 

Kathleen leaned into Moira, grinning demonically. I'll bet you they'll give Tommy a run for his money," she said conspiratorially. 

"I bet he's learned a trick or two in the Delta Quadrant. What odds will you give me?" the lithe brunette asked. 

"The Borg have nothing on Britt and Corey. But Tommy was a pretty creative brat himself, so…even money." 

"Uh, so this gambling—it's a family thing?" B'Elanna smiled. 

"Where do you think a ten-year-old learns statistics and playing the odds if not from his math-whiz sister?" Tom shoved Moira sideways onto the couch. "And you bring those boys on—I'll take them with one whoopee cushion tied behind my back!" 

"May I hold her?" Kathleen asked about Miral hopefully, and the conversation turned through a myriad of topics relating to Earth and Voyager, fired shotgun and answered accordingly by whomever was addressed, or not. They knew they would only scratch the surface now, in this public place, but they were all content to wait for a more details until they could manage a longer visit. They were more than content just to be together again. 

The baby was thoroughly loved all around and returned to B'Elanna only when she became hungry. She slumped back into the couch to nurse Miral and realized that she felt very comfortable and unselfconscious in the presence of this clan. She smiled to herself as she noticed subtle gestures and turns of phrase that were her husband's. They knew each other and accepted themselves as they were. And they seemed to accept her, too, without pause. The family seemed happy together. But of course, the family wasn't complete at that moment. 

What was it with the men in this family, and her own? Anne was talking to her, she realized suddenly. 

"I've seen your father, B'Elanna, in the families' waiting areas—" 

"I don't have a father," B'Elanna shot out, regretting her tone instantly. 

Anne knew of B'Elanna's recent loss of her mother, and her estrangement with her own father—she had made a point to learn all she could about her daughter-in-law. She wondered idly how much of their shared broken trust had played a part in this young woman's romance with her son. Did each of them understand the pain the other one bore from their insufficient fathers? 

But John Torres had seemed very quiet and polite to others whenever she had seen him, not righteous or hardened at all. 

"Oh, honey." She touched B'Elanna gently. "Never close the door on the face of another person. And if you are the one to do the leaving, never slam it in anger," Anne leaned forward in honest intensity. 

Tom dropped his head, eyes tightly closed, a long-buried despair skyrocketing to the surface. He knew that was exactly what he had done—literally, not figuratively—all those years ago, when he left his father's house for good. His mother had never deserved that. And yet here she was—forgiving him. 

He felt her light hand slip into his and looked down on his mother's concerned face. He flicked his eyes back to B'Elanna and saw her quiet understanding, drew from her pool of support. She came to his rescue. 

"You know, we each have holoimage albums back in our quarters, covering the last seven years." Her glance took in all the women. "You could take them with you when you leave, hold on to them for us. Until we come home." Tom's gaze held his wife's. 

Suddenly, the prospect of a home other than Voyager was less daunting. He silently thanked the stars around them for how cool his sisters and mom had been, accepting his wife so unconditionally. And for B'Elanna, he said nothing, as the stars already knew his profound gratitude. They knew. 

"Tom, why don't you go dig them out and we'll follow you as soon as this bottomless pit finishes up," B'Elanna jiggled the little auburn head in her arms. Her joke served two purposes—to break up a moment that was threatening to spill tears, and to set the Paris sisters off on another round of merciless remembrances. 

"Hey, remember when Tommy was in puberty and mom used to squawk at him for using the replicator repeatedly—" Moira started. 

"And mom would say, 'Why don't you make yourself _one serving_ of something _very_ _nutritious_ instead?'" Kathleen imitated their mother eerily, despite the giggling. 

"So Tom would go over and order himself some cereal—" Moira rejoindered. 

"—in a _PUNCH BOWL_!" both of them finished, dissolving into quivering puddles of laughter. Tom mimed the gesture of 'mooning' them on his way out the door, causing renewed shrieks of merriment. His mother swatted at him as she followed. 

"I'm telling them about you and Harry and the infamous twenty-course dinner after Akritiri!" he heard his wife yell as the portal closed. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"Why don't we talk about what's really been on your mind since the moment you saw us," Anne asked with quiet confidence from her spot on the corner of Tom and B'Elanna's bed. "Where's Dad?" 

Tom slowed his rooting in the storage drawers for the photos. He looked down for a moment, then back up, full of bravado. 

"You know, Mom, I wasn't really sure he'd show up anyway. He was always great at putting on the public display—'Tell my son I'm proud of him'. Right. Like he could ever forget how I disgraced the Paris name—" 

"You stop it, Thomas Eugene! I won't have you dismiss him that wa—" The words died in her mouth when she saw the terrible agitation he was trying to cover up. 

Because she saw that her son had believed Owen when he had spoken of his pride. He had let Owen's words be a balm in his heart since that day, and the thought that he had been mistaken—had been played for a fool by his father—would be the shock in a week of shocks that would crack him. Anne felt her own heart break all over again. 

He was a new father himself now, she thought. He needed Owen; he didn't need to think that his own father—. 

"Tom, he _is_ proud of you! He told you so _despite_ the two audiences that heard him, not _because_ of them!" 

"He's always been proud of me, Mom—as long as I was doing what he wanted!" 

"Tom, Tom, he loves you, and he's afraid, honey! He's so—" 

"He ought to be afraid! Dead son—well, even with the bad rap sheet, that's got to elicit some sympathy, huh?" the words shot from Tom at warp speed. "Suddenly and unexpectedly—here he is again!" He spread his arms wide, his grin false and angry. 

Annie tried to take his hands. "Honey, he's—" He pulled into himself, one hand on his hip, the other to his forehead. He scrubbed his face then, thinking. 

"God! The probation board's probably already convening for me. He oughta _love_ that publicity all over again." 

"Tom, he—" 

"And when they're done, they can trot me over to Fleet Judicial, for the who-knows-how many PD violations we committed trying to stay alive and help people along the way. But that's okay, Mom—I'll have B'Elanna along with me, because your granddaughter's mother _was a Maquis rebel_!" 

"We'll deal with this as a family, Tom—a _family_," Anne hurriedly filled in between his thickening sarcasm that she recognized for the rising panic that it was. "Your father—" 

"My father," he spat out. "I'm surprised he hasn't shipped out for deep space yet to avoid—" 

"_He's on the shuttle right now_!" Anne finally barked passionately. "_Not a hundred meters from where we are_!" 

Tom gulped in several gasps of air, waiting for the chill to leave his spine. His mother took the opportunity to pull his face to hers, sandwiching it between a warm hand and her own cheek. 

"Oh, honey, there are no engineers, just us. He couldn't wait for you to get all the way back—he'd waited far, far too long already to make amends with you, don't you think? Far longer than seven years." Her voice was sad, but excited at the same time. Tom must have looked like he would fall down. She pulled them both to the sofa and they sat. She did not let her hand leave his face. 

"Nobody knows he's here, not even your Captain Janeway. He didn't want this to be official; he didn't want to suffer any fanfare. This is our family, honey. This is private." 

"But Harry—" 

"Harry is family now, too, I have a feeling," Anne smiled. "We've read your letters. The ship's logs, the shore leave rosters—Captain Janeway has spoken of her crew to your father, privately. I think you'd be surprised at how warmly she feels about you all." 

"Doubt it," Tom cocked a quick, lopsided grin. 

"Well, your father knew Harry would understand. He purposely waited for the shift change to make our approach." 

"Then what the hell is he doing in the shuttle?" 

Anne smiled. "Waiting." 

"For what?" Tom's voice took on a hard edge once again. "For the latest communiqué from 'fleet? Are we supposed to just hang around while he finishes up business, like we _always_ did?" 

Anne stared at him without comment for a moment, wanting to be sure to say the right thing. She _had_ to reach him; it was imperative that she reached him, right here, right now. 

All those years watching Owen agonize, then slowly find resolution within himself, all while she herself suffered their marriage-shaking rage over the estrangement. Suffering the guilt that came from thinking she could have done more for them, saved the family such regret. She sighed carefully. 

"For my 'reconnaissance report'. He's afraid, hon." 

"What's he afraid of?" 

"That his penance for failing you at Caldik Prime, and all the years afterwards, might be to have you back in body but never in spirit, never here," she put her palm over his heart. "He is so ashamed, Tom, of having abandoned you when you needed him that he thinks you could never forgive him." 

Tom closed his eyes, relief flooding him. His old man had taken the first step forward, leaving the ball in his court. The decision was his to make. 

In his best dreams he always thought he would feel the most gratifying sense of satisfaction, seeing his father humbled like this. He could practically see him, begging for Tom's forgiveness, apologizing for his abandonment. He was mistaken, he saw, in real life. He felt ashamed, now, for his whiny comment a minute earlier, but he could see that his mother had understood. 

"I…He's not the only one with ghosts, Mom. With regrets." 

"Oh, believe me, you are definitely responsible for your own actions, too. But a man knows how much of the son the father himself makes. Your father knows that the brunt of the responsibility for what happened lies with him—he didn't stop you when you left. He didn't 'just love you' enough in the moment when it mattered. 

"When your father thought you were lost, there was no threat anymore—no one to defend against. He was forced to re-examine and confront his own disgraceful part in the unraveling of your relationship, not unlike the way you came forward about the accident even though it couldn't change anything. The irony wasn't lost on him." 

Tom looked away, clearly hurt. It seeped into his voice. 

"All that wasted time on the Links, with the damn small-talk. Why he never said anything to me when he spoke to Janeway—I was practically sitting in his lap at the helm. I thought he was ignoring me purposely. It never crossed my mind that he was…" the rumination petered out. 

"Scared?" She brought the real crux of the matter into the light by saying it aloud. 

She touched a finger to his temple, gently caressed down his sideburn. "Listen to me, Tommy. The Cardassians, the Dominion, the War, the Shapeshifters, the attack on Earth itself—none of it ever had Admiral Owen Paris as fearful as he is right now, sitting in that shuttle, waiting to find out if there is a chance for forgiveness from his child." 

She paused, an acquiescent grin playing around her mouth, and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Tom's haunted gaze continued to stare at her. 

"Seven years changes a man so much, honey," she whispered. 

A smile began in the corner of his mouth. He reached out to take her hand—softer and more wrinkled than he remembered. 

"Yeah, Mom. Tell me about it." 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The wait was going to kill him. He expected that Annie and the girls would be at least several hours, but knowing that didn't help any. He paced the shuttle restlessly. He had tried soothing music, but it only irritated him. He couldn't give a flying fig about playing a game, and the shuttle's maintenance was up to schedule. 

He had long ago given up on following the latest reports to his in-box. At this hour, he would normally be deep asleep. Nobody would need a reply before the morning, no one was missing him at the moment. That had been part of the allure of sneaking in at this time. 

He was going to develop an ulcer; he could feel it forming as he waited— 

He squared his chin. Well, then, so be it. Maybe the answer was "no" today; maybe the timing wasn't right yet. Tom had so much on his plate right now—maybe this was just another thing he could do without until things quieted down. He would accept that. He had already made up his mind to accept it. 

He told Annie that he would live with the consequences of his past actions. He would follow Tom's lead on this one. That wasn't to say he'd be passive. He laughed at himself—some habits you just couldn't break, it wasn't in his nature to ever give up. 

This time, though, he would be using his powers for good and not evil, he humored himself. He sobered. He would be at the trials this time, Tommy willing or not. If he did nothing more than sit silently and hold Annie's hand, he'd be there for him. 

The dinner dishes from before the girls received clearance still sat on the pullout table in the aft section. It was something to do. Owen stacked the plates and balanced them in the recycler for re-conversion. He replicated a clean-all and set to scrubbing the table and chairs. 

Tommy'd probably be all right with the law. Past experience and the scuttlebutt from Judicial seemed to indicate that he had done time served on Voyager. Add to that the citations he'd received, the incredible accomplishments he'd been a part of—breaking the warp barrier, Christ—then subtract the demotion, for which he'd also paid his debt…pretty even call. 

B'Elanna would pose the bigger problem. She had been in the Maquis nearly as long as her mentor, Chakotay, and had allegedly engineered some interesting solutions to some of the Maquis' problems during her time with them. Having the brand new baby was either going to make the decision easier for the hearing board, or all that much more heartbreaking. Either way, Owen would be there. It wasn't a question. 

He heard the whine of the transporter forward, in the cockpit, and looked at the chronometer. Short, he thought, but hopefully sweet. Despite the outcome for himself and his son, he knew Tommy would be thrilled to see his sisters again, and the Admiral looked forward to hearing their (no doubt giggle-ridden) tales. He took a deep breath to steel his fear and stepped into the hatchway. 

"Annie, you're early. Is everything all…" 

The three of them had beamed in, but it wasn't Annie and the girls. 

B'Elanna's face was a study in stately calm as she took a small step back, his sleeping granddaughter tucked in the crook of her arm. He knew from the look on his son's face that no words were necessary. Gingerly, the two men took the one forward step needed to bring them together. Owen reached up to grasp Tom's elbows in his hands, feeling euphoric as Tom's face flooded with relief. 

And with feelings that had lain dormant for too long, father and son embraced. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Powerful as Owen Paris was, his reach was insufficient to protect Tom or any of the other criminally accused members of Kathryn Janeway's crew from the authorities. The instant Voyager was secured in berth, Starfleet Security calmly but firmly stormed the little vessel, removing all the former Maquis, Equinox crewmembers, and one Thomas Eugene Paris for transport and processing at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. 

Silently, B'Elanna and Tom followed the aide assigned to show them to their "temporary housing", apparently the euphemism to be used instead of "holding cell". The woman chatted excitedly about the wonder of Voyager's return. She gushed enthusiastically over Miral and the pleasure she felt being assigned to assist them both. B'Elanna noticed that she was a member of Security. 

She glanced sidelong at Tom, on whom that fact was not lost. If it hadn't been for his hand pressed comfortingly to her back, she was sure she would have torn through her own skin. 

They stopped in front of an open door and the aide urged them to memorize their unit number, adding, with a shrug, "Everything kind of looks the same in this area." Looking up the corridor they noticed other open doorways, the outside light from each room's far wall streaming through onto the deck. Or floor, B'Elanna corrected herself. 

They entered together and came to a stop. The aide continued to prattle on with instructions, reminding them that they were free to use all of HQ's facilities, to beam in any personal touches they'd enjoy, from Voyager or otherwise, to call her if they needed anything. And, of course, that they were prohibited from leaving the campus and would be monitored in any areas that also supported civilian traffic. She said the last quietly and appeared genuinely apologetic, so Tom dismissed her politely, with thanks. 

B'Elanna stepped forward slightly and began a slow pivot around the room. With the exception of the bathroom, it was indeed only one room, but far more spacious than the quarters on Voyager. It was even far bigger than the captain's ready room, she noticed, though the layout wasn't too different. There was a receiving area where they stood, large enough for some living room furniture, which led to a raised platform that filled the remainder of the room, ending in a cubicled corner that held a small cooking facility. The far wall faced east, toward San Francisco proper. B'Elanna couldn't help but think that somewhere down there was Tom's family home and the hotel rooms and guest facilities of all the friends and family who had come to greet their loved ones' returns. 

She noticed the gravity felt slightly heavier on Earth. 

Clutching her new infant daughter to her chest, she completed her turn to face Tom standing mutely in the center of the empty unit. 

"Welcome home," she whispered with more acid than any tantrum could muster. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Several days later, the place looked moderately better with their furniture and wall hangings from Voyager. Neither of them had any possessions in storage elsewhere so what they had was…well, what they had. And each other. 

They had quickly discovered that Tom was not included in the prison-like restrictions. The authorities seemed confused about how to classify him in relation to the others. He was not Maquis, nor was he an original member of Voyager's crew. He had been a conditional observer, but not only had his original prison sentence expired while in the Delta Quadrant, he had managed to comport himself with bravery while out there, too. He also was the son of an admiral who had only become more powerful in the ranks during the Dominion War. 

So they had asked him to observe the gag order imposed for reasons of security, gave him the escort status enjoyed by the non-restricted Voyagers, and hoped that his imprisoned wife and newborn infant would be a satisfactory curb to any untoward activities. Chakotay had commented that, once again, Paris proved that he was a thing that defied description. And grudgingly admitted that he had the luck of the Ancestors. 

Tom took full advantage of his nebulous status to help the others arrange the transport of their personal goods. He had tried to gain access to Harry, then the Captain, then _anyone_ not restricted, only to be rebuffed with the excuse that they were 'in debriefing'. Twenty-four hours a day? Paris knew a scam job when one was going down, but he accepted the limit of his leash cautiously. 

Now, less than a week later, the length of that leash was in serious jeopardy. With a kiss for luck and an adjustment to his dress uniform, B'Elanna had sent her husband off for an unexpected hearing with the JAG office to discuss issues that had been left purposely vague. Tom pretended to take it in stride—she saw through his false nonchalance but kept quiet for his sake—but B'Elanna was nervous. 

The hearings would all be starting soon, and everyone was tense. Chakotay seemed confident that things were above-board, but a decade of command had made her friend a terrific liar where his people's worries were concerned. She couldn't be sure he wasn't putting on a good face for the crew's sake, nor could she ask. She sensed he was particularly worried about her and she wanted to allay his own fears by appearing placated. Two could play his game, she thought with satisfaction. Besides, it was something to do. 

She felt like a caged animal. It was almost intolerable. She was on edge and found herself prowling the perimeter of their quarters or the rec area frequently—it made her feel better, though intellectually she knew it did no real good. She also knew that her wildly fluctuating hormones and lack of decent sleep were contributing factors to her sense of unease. 

Miral was a fairly standard model as babies went, if the Doctor's training and parenting classes were any indication, but learning to care for someone helpless was more daunting than she or Tom had ever imagined. Chakotay and the rest of their incarcerated friends helped them out just as they would have on Voyager, but the uncertainties involved in their return complicated everything tremendously. And now, this summon for Tom to appear for a special chat with JAG…give her an enemy she could see instead, any day, B'Elanna thought. She hoped her nerves would survive the next few months. 

Just as unexpected as Tom's citation to this meeting was the sound of the door chime, and B'Elanna raced to answer it. It was far too early to be Tom again, but perhaps Chakotay had heard something and had come to share it with her. The door swooshed open as she keyed it. 

And she froze. 

He wasn't as amazingly tall as she remembered, but maybe that was because _she_ didn't slouch or skulk anymore. The uniform design had changed while they were gone, but he still had the quirky habit of wearing his professorial pin to the left of his turtleneck. He was still the richest shade of brown a human could be without crossing into actual black, but the gray curls at his temples were new. So were the wrinkles around his inquisitive eyes, the very short-cropped beard and the pencil-thin mustache. And none of it mattered a whit, because B'Elanna could never forget the commanding presence of her former professor and foil, Commander Josiah Chapman. 

"Lieutenant." He bowed his head fractionally in honor. "Ah, I do like the sound of that, don't you?" He waited patiently for B'Elanna to offer some reaction—any reaction—to his introduction, but was disappointed. Evidently, more drastic measures were necessary. 

"Well, fire a synapse, would you? You gonna invite me in, young lady, or kick me in the ass, like you always wanted?" the tall, dark man barked kindly. 

"Professor Chapman?" B'Elanna said aloud, still in denial of what her senses were clearly telling her. "I can't believe this! Um, come in, please." 

He waltzed past her and surveyed the quarters cursorily. His eyes lit on the cradle near the couch and he walked over, cocking his head to look directly into the tiny, wakeful face inside. He turned back to B'Elanna solicitously and raised one palm in indication. 

"May I?" he asked casually. At her dream-like nod, the skinny, graceful hands reached down and scooped the yellow-swaddled bundle up to his chest. He smiled at Miral, then sniffed deeply in appreciation. 

"I just love that smell of new baby—nothing else like it. Even when they're dirty, they smell great," he enthused. "Say something," he commanded after another waft of soft skin. 

She remembered her time at the Academy, how he had made her fight to defend every contradictory view she ever had in his engineering class. She fell in now with practiced ease to his game—and with a decade's worth of life experience for added kick. 

"Well right now, this seems more like those really vivid dreams you have in sickbay coming off serious hallucinogens than it does reality. But I know I'm awake, so that's not it. And you would never have gained access to us without someone's permission, and a damn good reason. And though I don't know why, I suspect your mission today is _not_ to sniff newborns." She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms, waiting. 

He peeked at her over the top of Miral's fuzzy head and smiled significantly. "You were a phaser pistol then, and I see you still are. No matter, a bit of fire could be a good thing now." He tucked the baby under one arm and pulled himself tall and square to her. "Young lady, you left here making hell's own trouble, and you're not back here a week and you're at it again." 

"What are you talking about?" B'Elanna asked, beginning to feel some of that fire he had expressed admiration for. Part of her didn't want to know; she didn't think she was ready for yet another thing to obsess over while she went slowly stir-crazy in confinement. 

"First things first." He ambled slowly over to her and looked down, gauging. "I've been assigned to the command teams who have been charged with figuring out your unique engineering systems." 

Her heart ached at the mention of her engines. She had kept her pain to herself—what was her yearning in comparison to everyone's loss of freedom? But she noticed that he purposely said 'your systems' and not Voyager's. Knowing Professor Chapman, it wasn't accidental. 

Miral made a nondescript gurgle and B'Elanna resisted the urge to pluck her out of Chapman's arm and clutch her close. It wouldn't do to operate from a position of perceived weakness—whatever operating they were doing. 

"Alright, you have my attention." 

"Good." He nodded at her reaction. "I see you don't disapprove of me in that position." Another careful choice of words, B'Elanna noticed. "Your first choice, though…would be you, yes?" 

He didn't need an answer. He walked up and over to the transparent aluminum and glanced out over the city. She followed. "There are others who would agree," he squinted into the early sun. He took a deep breath. 

"But there are others who feel very differently. They want the Maquis imprisoned. I don't need to tell you that these are the hardcore Starfleeters—once the Cardassians showed their true colors the general public turned fairly sympathetic toward the Maquis. And what the hardcores _really_ want is for any former officers to pay for the _sin_ of betraying the uniform and defying principles more than any actual crimes they might have committed as a rebel…" he trailed off distastefully. He sighed again determinedly. "But my engineers want you on board, explaining your wizardry," he nodded, as if that were that, "which is what brings me here today." 

B'Elanna held her breath. "Have you been authorized to gain me access to Voyager, then?" 

"No," he answered directly. 

"Well, then…" she trailed off, confused. 

"I have some pull with the people in charge. Some. I wish it were more. For instance, your staff is very knowledgeable, obviously, about the ship's systems. Originally, though, if I were curious, say, about your original theory of integration of a certain system I would be allowed to submit a question to you for a considered answer." 

She waited for him to continue. Surely that wasn't the end of his thought? Big deal, what did that have to do with him being here now, she thought, then said as much. 

"I'm a little…confused here," she admitted. 

"Oh? _There's_ a first," he needled, looking out the wall as he absently rubbed the soft head of Miral, tucked firmly under his left arm like a loaf of bread. The snug space and repetitive motion of the warm hand seemed to hypnotize her, and her eyes were half-closed. 

"Do you have something for me, or not, Professor Chapman?" That was as politely direct as she could be. _After this,_ she thought to herself, _that ass-kicking will be looking better and better. What can they do to me—have me arrested?_ The thought of a possible fight actually made her feel giddy. 

"It broke my heart when you dropped out," he tossed down, an apparent non sequitur. He deftly swung the bundled Miral out from under his arm and onto his shoulder. She drew in a ragged sigh, but immediately drifted to sleep in her new position. "You had, hands-down, the most natural talent of any student I've ever seen. But it was evident in every biting comment and surly insight that you had a different path to follow than your standard Starfleet career." 

"Well, I hope you bet serious credit on it in the faculty lounge, because the paths I found were certainly different," B'Elanna admitted grudgingly. But it was a stall tactic; she had lost any semblance of a hint where his train of thought was heading. 

"Mm-hm, yes they were. Evidently you learned the lessons you needed to along the way, because the girl I knew whose talent was phenomenal and whose skin was paper-thin would _never_ have done well in the situations into which you were thrust! I didn't know enough about your past then to speculate on why you acted the way you did, but I knew you had your reasons—you weren't a garden-variety complainer, Torres. 

"And I know that you didn't get the position you held on Voyager by picking straws, but there is more to the position of Chief than talent. The most talented boob in the world wouldn't get that job without some people skills—and that was never your forte, eh?" He grinned at her, then raised his eyebrows at her lack of response, pleased. The grin broadened into a small smile. "I found out you held the position for seven years. And you married—all the others managed to avoid that, given Voyager's unstable circumstances." He leaned his cheek onto the now sleeping infant on his shoulder, rosebud mouth hanging limply open in secure peace. "Then this wonderful creature here…the Cadet Torres I knew could never have pulled off any of these feats successfully." 

"What is your point?" B'Elanna asked in frustration. 

He switched to his lecture tones then. "My hypothesis was that you finally managed to centrifuge all that sludge and oil inside yourself and distill out the highest grade petrol, as the old saying goes. And someone along the way took a chance on you, cocksure sass that you were." 

"My—the people on Voyager. They had a lot to do with that," she put in carefully, but he heard the wistfulness behind the words. 

"You miss them now. And Voyager," he murmured. It was a statement. He seemed to understand. 

Her eyes smoldered. "I put seven years of everything I had into that ship. Just when we needed something critical or we thought we'd never get a system repaired and running again, another idea would crop up. Or some sideways piece of alien technology that we could adapt with some creativity. No matter what we did to her or for her, Voyager gave us everything that she had, too, and more. I honestly don't know how she survived some of the scrapes we were in. And now, to not even know what is happening to her, who's ripping what out—" 

He pointed skyward with his free hand. "I've seen your talent expressed all over the ingenious designs on that ship and if it weren't for your troubles all those years ago, you'd be enjoying the admiration that you deserve, right now." 

The games were over, B'Elanna decided calmly. He had evoked enough feeling from her for one day. "Why are you really here, Professor?" she asked quietly. He turned to her, earnest now. 

"I wanted to meet the person I always knew you could be. I had to find out if my hypothesis was correct—if your magnificent talent had lost that rotten attitude." He stared at her. 

B'Elanna had never forgotten Captain Janeway's revelation so long ago, when they were trapped in the shuttle, in the singularity. How Chapman had filed a recommendation for her readmittance to the Academy should she ever reapply. How that one act of faith, written in the margins of a discharge report, from a man she would probably never see again had shaken some of the bad apples from her tree and helped give her the confidence she needed to assume the difficult path of command. 

He came to see the woman she had become, because he had appreciated her before she even existed. And he had no idea that he had helped create her. B'Elanna felt herself warm to him, and she smiled. 

Their eyes locked over the small auburn head on his shoulder and a connection was made. Professor Chapman's firm nod told his former student that he had gotten what he had come for. 

"I could get used to that," he stated with mock surprise at her relaxed mein. 

"You know," B'Elanna couldn't help laughing lightly, despite her true words, "you are really starting to annoy me." The situation was truly ludicrous, she felt—but what the hell! Professor Chapman's straightforward affect was refreshing to the B'Elanna who was comfortable with herself—a far cry from the girl she used to be. 

"Now, having seen her," he roused them both from their sentimental reverie, "this is what I have to offer." He turned all business. "I've spoken with your staff, obviously, and surreptitiously with your captain. I don't think they want her having contact with you people, whether for her sake or yours, I can't speculate. But she's very worried about you all and is doing what she can to help you. In your case, that meant convincing the brass that it would be in their best and fastest interest to allow you consulting status while we examine Voyager and make our reports to Fleet. The authorities won't even consider allowing you out of restriction, so this would all be done over the comm." 

He saw her slump slightly in dejection, so he immediately dipped to catch her eye and continued encouragingly. "It would allow you to have input into what we were doing on a daily basis and visual access to all happenings as they were occurring—if we rip out a vital circuit, you can verbally rip us a new asshole, no waiting," he offered. She growled lightly to let him know his humor wasn't appreciated, but he waived it off. "Listen to me. We could do this without you but the brass doesn't know that, I don't want to, and your staff is willing to play along if it means helping you be there again. 

"I'm offering you some control over what we do to Voyager. It's a bit of an illusion, I'm afraid— in the end, Starfleet will do whatever they want with _their_ ship," he emphasized the word, "but she's your ship, too, in her soul. And one person _can_ make a difference in the outcome of events, don't you think?" 

He was talking about her, but she couldn't help looking at him, and smiling. 

"I'm grateful, Professor. That sounds inadequate, but I am," she answered gracefully. 

"Here's your beautiful baby back. Thank you for the privilege of letting me _borrow_ her," he said significantly as he expertly handed B'Elanna's second baby over to her mother. She walked him to the door and he stepped out. 

"Thank you, sir" she smiled respectfully up at him. 

He was caught somewhere between delight and a grimace, and the image tickled B'Elanna. 

"Now, don't go and get totally soft on me. This isn't gonna be all pretty. You may have to show some backbone to the nay-sayers." He leaned back in the door, almost touching her nose to nose. "If you still have one." 

"Fuck you," B'Elanna dropped with blunt clarity, her amusement barely veiled. 

"Perfect," he smiled, "I'll be in contact shortly." 

The door closed behind him without another word, and B'Elanna allowed herself to feel a surge of giddiness. She could be allowed to work on Voyager for the duration of her incarceration! Even if the best they were able to finagle was a telecommute from these facilities, the professor was right—it was one _helluva_ sight better than wondering and worrying what was happening to her ship and receiving information second-hand stale. 

Yes. Definitely better. She couldn't wait to tell Tom her news! She held Miral before her and scrubbed her cheek on the tiny forehead affectionately before putting her in her cradle. "Things may be looking up for mommy, sweetie." 

The door chimed again, evoking the image of a major transporter hub. Feast or famine, she thought, raging boredom or too much excitement—no in between. She glanced around quickly; could the professor have left something behind? He couldn't have gotten far up the hallway. 

"So, what now? Did we forget to argue about the weather?" She keyed the release and the door opened. 

John Torres, hesitant and uncomfortable, stood in the opening. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

"They said…that families could come visit…" he trailed off. 

It wasn't that it was unexpected. Of course she had known he would come. She actually _had_ known; Anne Paris had said he was on Earth and waiting. It was just…everything. Everything, too much, too soon. 

He had said _families_. She couldn't decide whether to scream or sing inside. Somewhere inside herself, she wanted to attack him… 

But the emotions evoked by the smell of him were so powerful! The oldest parts of her brain remembered so many pleasant memories from that smell. Her instincts were so overwhelmingly conflicted on this; she would have to make a conscious decision. 

She dropped her head to her chest and raised an arm, beckoning him inside. 

He practically ran in, hesitating as he passed her as if a cohesive force of some kind was drawing him to her but he resisted its pull. 

"Is—is Tom home?" he blinked convulsively. "I was hoping to meet him properly, in person." 

"No, I'm sorry. He was called to a hearing," B'Elanna said neutrally. 

"Well." The salt-and-peppered stranger that had been her father smiled nervously. "Maybe that's for the best this first time," he stuttered out. "You know, just the two Torreses?" He knew it was the wrong thing to say as it left his lips, she could see that, but she didn't care. He had hit the wrong trigger. 

"It's Torres-Paris now. Actually, on duty I prefer to just use Paris." This wasn't the truth, but it did thrill the Admiral to think he might have another Paris back in the ranks again, so she _might_ do it for him. She didn't care one way or the other what she was called, as long as it was spoken respectfully. 

"Oh. That's nice. Old Starfleet name, honorable men and women, the Parises," John nodded agreeably, nervous. 

B'Elanna's stomachs ached. Had she honestly believed that hurting him with words would make her feel any better? It hadn't; it only made her feel unworthy of all she had become while on Voyager. What was going to be accomplished by ripping open twenty years of bad scar tissue? 

She fumbled with her wedding band for courage, equally nervous. "Look, um…would you…like to see your granddaughter?" she asked. 

He sighed as if deflated, relieved at her quick recovery of the situation. "I would like that very much, thank you," he quirked a grin. He walked over to the chair by the cradle and sat before he peered in. While his back was turned, B'Elanna unconsciously backed up several paces. The hand she put to her mouth began to shake. She was thunderstruck with the realization that she feared he would in some way reject her daughter. She forced an even breath as John reached in for the baby. 

"Ohhh," he sighed audibly as he picked the little girl up. The motion startled her awake again but she just looked him, unfocused. He studied her carefully for several moments, smiling. 

"I'm surprised she doesn't look more like you," he finally said with a grin. B'Elanna blinked, shocked. 

"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously. Her father took it as disapproval of his declaration. 

"Please," he entreated, "don't be upset. I see plenty of you! Here, in the shape of her eyes. And definitely around the mouth." She supposed the forehead ridges were too obvious to mention. "But she's very fair—not dark like you were, like the House of B'Kor and the Torreses. And these eyes are beautiful!" he sighed with sincerity. "What color are they, though? Not brown," he examined them. 

Watching him intently, B'Elanna realized that he wasn't being judgmental, just genuinely appreciative of the baby's uniqueness. She was struck with a thought. 

Perhaps he had always felt the same about her, too. Her feelings about that fateful camping trip and her father's departure had changed mysteriously since she had given birth. As if the love of a child could open doors into pools of perception that would otherwise remain barred from the mind's eye. It felt like a wonderful gift of clarity, but also, like a betrayal. 

The emotional barricade that she had been hauling around since that time—it had affected everything in her life. Everything! It had poisoned her relationship with her mother, now beyond anything more than the mystical redemption they had achieved in the shadow of Gre'thor. There had been no meaningful connection to anyone, anything—on Qo'noS, at the Academy, in the Maquis… 

Until Voyager. Captain Janeway's unblinking trust. Harry's steadfastness. And two special men who changed her: the friend and the lover. Chakotay's immutable faith had convinced her that there _was_ a place for her, somewhere. And Tom's unshakeable love and acceptance of her as she was proved that the place was at his side. 

As B'Elanna watched, John Torres' face relaxed and he raised the pitch of his voice as he talked to the baby. B'Elanna felt her heart slam into her ribs as she had a flashback—the Vidiian caves! She had stood in the sickbay bathroom for the longest time and memorized that face—her human face—before the procedure to re-integrate her had begun. And looking at her father now was like looking into that smooth, weak, coveted face! 

She looked harder. His face appeared tired, though, more resigned somehow. Perhaps this was where the incredible weakness she had felt came from, though it hurt to think that. Her childlike eyes had painted a very different picture of that face in her mind long ago. Looking at him now, she realized with her adult's eyes that he wasn't apathetic or hateful as she had thought during that camping trip—just weak. 

They had too much to talk about. 

_I don't expect to be able to make up for twenty years in one conversation._

"Tom insists that they're purple," she offered. 

"You know, I think that's it! Dark, but still…" he nodded agreeably. Head still bent over the baby, John Torres raised his eyes to study his daughter from under his brow. He caught her studying him, and B'Elanna startled guiltily—but did not look away. 

"She's as beautiful as you were. And still are," he choked out resolutely. 

_Truth is, when your ship disappeared I thought I'd lost you._

As they continued to stare at one another emotions charged the air with their mutual desire to break through to the other. 

John had taken the wrong initiative twenty years earlier, and his ill-timed abandonment had had disastrous consequences. This time, he would make the right choice. He carefully put the baby down in the crib beside him and stood, arms hanging limply by his sides, palms turned outward in surrender. 

"B'Elanna. Please. Let me hug you." The tone was even though the yearning in it was excruciating. But he didn't move. The choices would be hers now, and he would abide by that. 

_I don't expect you to forgive me..._

She wondered if the terror she could see in the depth of his eyes as he waited was mirrored in her own. She wrung her fingers together, her face a controlled mask. 

She made her choice. 

One tentative step toward him was all she needed to open the floodgate. Her footfall stumbled then, each step faster than the last until she fell, spent from the emotional effort, into the eager embrace. 

"After this," his quavering voice rumbled through his chest wall, "it will get easier than it is right now, than it has been…in a long, long time." The quaver increased. John Torres hugged her more tightly. "Now that we're both here, we'll take it slow. I'm willing to take it slow, B'Elanna." 

"I never wrote you, like I promised," she sobbed stupidly, but she didn't care. She had a chance to fix everything—to repair what was wrong all her life, and still keep what was so very right. There was no way she was going to blow it. 

And then her father laughed shakily. "B'Elanna. I would much rather have what you're giving me now, any day of the millennium." 

_...but I hope, maybe, we could try to get to know each other again…_

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The next four months passed in a flurry of busy activity that worked out better than Tom or B'Elanna could have hoped. Professor Chapman returned with a dedicated audio-visual link to Voyager and B'Elanna began to lead a dual life. She performed the mundane functions of living in the housing unit in HQ while carrying on engineering conversations day and night on the portable unit that never left her side. 

The day B'Elanna gained some freedom from the professor was the day that Tom lost his—his restriction to the housing area turned out to be fairly temporary, however, as sanctions and all charges pending were lifted, with time served. But even when sanctioned, Tom Paris had a way of finding unique activities to stave off his worry and restlessness. 

On the recommendation of several crewmates, he was approached by a publishing company that wanted to mass-produce some of the crew's personal holodeck programs. Tom had been responsible for the matrixes of many of them and he was able to offer them technical advice on specific pieces of work or recommend others that the publishers may have overlooked. Though the work was offered gratis by Tom—he was grateful to be able to do something, especially since he enjoyed it so much—a seed was planted that began to take root. 

When not consulting, and at the conclusion of his trial, he took Miral out most days for short jaunts to his parents' house, or his sisters', though often he would prepare to leave only to find one or another of them at the door, seeking visitation themselves. 

Anne Paris especially was very helpful. Relatively unobtrusive by nature, though certainly no pushover, she slowly drew B'Elanna out of her natural reticence. She was helpful with Miral without seeming pushy or making B'Elanna question her own competence. She always acted as if she were a guest in her children's home instead of a visitor in the prison unit they couldn't leave. She allowed them their dignity, especially important to the sensitive, new mother. 

And she allowed B'Elanna to talk by being interested and inquisitive. The women talked of the baby. Both Tom and B'Elanna grieved the loss of their Voyager support system, but expressed their gratitude that the child wasn't in danger on a daily basis. The women regretted together the absence of Miral Torres at this momentous time in B'Elanna's own life. They discussed John Torres and B'Elanna's ambivalence to move too quickly back into their relationship, which conflicted with her desire to have the repentant man back again, especially in her own daughter's life. Anne supported them during their respective trials, brought them gifts for their 'apartment', and argued with the young 'security aides' about the quality of their bed linens. 

John Torres began visiting weekly, more or less, based upon his work travel schedule. He showed up religiously 'when he was in the area' and stayed only a few minutes to hold the baby and see if Tom or B'Elanna needed anything. No matter how often they answered in the negative, he was unfailingly cheerful and always asked again on his next visit. 

Tom began to feel so sorry for him that he invented small needs for himself—a special confection from the Wharf, dim sum from Old Chinatown, special-cut boots from Bogota—to make his father-in-law feel needed. He discovered that they both loved sports and before long John was staying longer to view the daily match-ups of Parrises Squares or kor beng on the satellite feeds B'Elanna had programmed into the old television set. Tom provided the buffer his wife and her father needed to trowel a foundation of normalcy on which to build a new relationship. 

After one particularly comfortable visit with her father, and an easy day from Miral, B'Elanna had made love to her husband from one end of their quarters to the other like starving people. During a lull in their hungry re-acquaintance, B'Elanna had thanked him for the peace he brought through his kindness to John. 

"You can never have the father-daughter relationship that you had before; you know that," Tom had said sadly. He could never work up a good anger at what the man had denied B'Elanna—without John's absence, Tom would never have known B'Elanna's love for himself—but he felt an overwhelming pity for what John Torres had denied _himself_. "He screwed himself when he left you along with your mother. I think he knows that—has known that for some time. He pays, B'Elanna—just like you, he pays every day of his life, only he's got nothing to show for it." He kissed her softly to illustrate what she did have. "You can't have a new beginning, but you sure as hell can make a new ending, right?" he had whispered tenderly. And the lull in their lovemaking had ended. 

Though more subtle, B'Elanna's presence in Tom's life provided the same service in the reconciliation of the Paris men. Despite his original squeamishness at the thought of the sullen-looking rebel-fighter-turned-brevet-Chief-Engineer, Owen Paris could do nothing but like his half-Klingon daughter-in-law. They were both too much alike for comfort. 

Strong, direct, and expert in their chosen professions, neither B'Elanna nor Owen suffered fools gladly. They discovered they had similar senses of humor as well as duty. And they both loved Tom, though neither had made it easy for themselves for a long, long time. 

She was irritatingly unintimidated by the Admiral. She fought toe to toe with him on any issue for which she had strong feelings—which were _all_ of them. And as the department reports on Voyager's enhancements and repair alternatives began to grow, so did his respect for her talent and adaptability. And, he just plain liked her. 

The second half of the one-two punch was Miral, who had quickly and expertly wrapped the old man around her fingers. She had spunk that the Admiral loved; little as she was, she seemed to know her own problems and wasn't shy about telling the world her troubles. But like her father, Owen remembered, she was easily soothed once her needs were met. He saw in her someone who would make it far in life, whatever she chose to do. And, he realized, he had missed having a baby around. 

Tom found himself watching his father with Miral, seeing what he and his father had lost along the way. In the way men will, neither one of them brought up anything too deep in their visits—generally there were plenty of legal issues to discuss, or Voyager findings, or the baby. But it didn't seem to matter. The respect each man showed the other seemed to be enough for the time being. 

As each Voyager inquiry ended and each crewman in turn was released from the housing units there was trepidation as well as the joy one might expect. Not everyone departed right away from their unit. Even when they knew where their next assignment would take them and they were excited, they were reluctant to break the last daily connection they had to the huge chunk of their lives that was Voyager. The 'home life' in the common areas became quieter, more introspective. Emotions ran higher than in the beginning, when they first arrived, but even the tears were backed by hope and anticipation. 

Eventually, more and more doors remained open, pouring their empty room's light into the hallway once again. Mealtimes condensed down to fewer tables and became more intimate as the diners truly began to feel their limited numbers. By the time B'Elanna was released, they were eating their meals lounging around their quarters, or Chakotay's, talking about everything and everyone that came to mind and mulling over their respective futures during desert. 

There was one topic, one person who was never mentioned. They had heard through public sources that she was living in Indiana, had recently received a job offer from Utopia Planetia, and was coming up for inquiry shortly after them. They knew her distance was in everyone's best interests, but her complete silence for nearly five months still hurt. 

It was simply a given that Tom and B'Elanna would remain in their quarters until the end of Chakotay's trial. They would not leave their friend alone in the cavernous wing of HQ housing. But the day he was cleared and released, they were in England on a visit to Kathleen, who had just given birth to a healthy baby girl, much to the delight of the Paris clan. Not wanting to disturb them, Chakotay didn't bother to contact his friends. 

He should have known better. B'Elanna heard the news not long after the fact when she called HQ to check in on Voyager. Her disappointment in not being there for him in person was mitigated by her engineering prowess, however. Along with her congratulatory note, she programmed him a Poker Night Special meal-pizza and beer. Though she had raised her eyes at her husband's selection, Tom had insisted, calling it "manly comfort food". 

By the time Tom and B'Elanna returned to San Francisco, it was to a quiet corridor with light streaming in through the open doorways. Unlike when they had arrived, though, there was no escort to help them with the few remaining possessions that required transport to the real home they had secured while keeping vigil with Chakotay. 

And as they stood in their unit one last time turning a slow circle to be sure they had missed nothing, it was with a peculiar sadness that they realized they had some good memories of their time there. For better or worse, they had begun their lives as a family unit in that room. For better or worse, they had dissolved their Voyager family there, also. 

They knew there would be reunions and regular visits from certain friends—in fact, they had jokingly made up the 'Harry Kim Guest Suite' for their best friend, which had tickled him even though he had rolled his eyes. Chakotay had promised to bring a moving-in dinner later that week. But it wasn't the same as being an interdependent community anymore. 

Truly alone as a couple for the first time since they met, they hooked an arm around each other comfortingly, and with a slow but purposeful gait, headed for the nearby transport hub. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn leaned forward on the porch steps, elbows to knees, carefully cradling her warm mug. The paint was peeling slightly on the balustrade, she noticed idly; perhaps she would take care of that for her mother when things settled down more. 

Free. She was finally, untouchably free. With the end of the trials, she had decided to come home and think. Plan. Prepare for…what? She wasn't sure yet. That was part of why she felt the need to be here, from where she had started; home. 

She sighed contentedly. The flowering vines on the sunward face of the farmhouse smelled wonderful and looked stunning, even in the fading light of the day. The setting sun brought the soft pinks, purples and blues out of the white paint and burnished the blossoms themselves with ruddier hues. She glanced up and noticed the sun release the stars as it retreated below the horizon. It turned her mother's hair golden again. 

Good after-dinner coffee. Stellar view. Companionable silence. Only the companion had changed. 'My choice,' she thought, 'I made my choice about that.' She sighed with resignation and turned her thoughts in more productive directions. 

"What's going on with Mark, Mom?" 

"We lost touch with him after the wedding. We went, you know—your sister and I—out of respect. But after that…" Gretchen shrugged philosophically. 

Kathryn could imagine it. It must have been difficult to watch your missing daughter's fiancé marry another woman. 

"I understand." 

"Why are you wondering?" 

Kathryn drained her mug and rose from the porch, along with her eyebrows. 

"Because I'm meeting him in town tomorrow for coffee." She brandished her mug in the air and strolled to the kitchen. Gretchen remained uncharacteristically quiet. 

"The last thing I heard," her mother finally blurted through the screen door after Kathryn was inside, "was that his marriage suffered after you contacted us through the array. You be careful tomorrow." 

Kathryn rinsed her mug in cold water. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

He saw her long before she reached him—that purposeful gait, all angles and curves, was unmistakably Kathryn. Mark smiled and opened his arms wide to accept her in embrace. 

"Right on time, as usual!" 

"Oh, but the entire Federation begs to differ with you!" Kathryn retorted and entered his arms, a large happy laugh bursting from them both. 

They hugged soundly. Mark kissed her firmly on the cheek, then the base of her neck, lingering there. He exhaled forcefully as he scrutinized her for longer than seemed necessary. 

"Kathryn. You are more beautiful than ever," he sighed sincerely. She caught her breath. He was wasting no time, she thought. 

"You look wonderful yourself," she said, and she meant it. But then, men always did manage to get more distinguished with the passing of the years. She looked at him a second time. 

Could she do this, she wondered? Should she? She was emotionally precarious right now, at best. The huge life changes, the trials…Chakotay still invading her thoughts. It all came back to that, to Chakotay. She tightened her jaw. 

She had made her decision about him, about _them_. But that didn't mean she had to accept the cynical future that the Admiral represented. 

She needed to know if she could feel anything for another man again. If she wasn't safe exploring that avenue with a childhood friend/ex-lover, then whom could she take this first risk with? She needed to _feel_ something. 

She heard nothing in her heart so far, but the day was very young, she reasoned. 

They began to enter the coffee shop, but at the last minute, Kathryn balked. The sky was stunningly blue and a balmy breeze strolled the town square where they stood. The park ran the entire length of the street to the west, and they headed in that direction. After crossing the street, Kathryn passed right over the sidewalk, but then paralleled Mark several yards away. 

"Why are you way over there?" Mark asked, amused. 

"I," Kathryn threw her arms in the air and twirled once, gaily, for punctuation, "am walking on the grass! And I intend to do so for the rest of my life!" 

Mark laughed. He spread his hands in surrender and hopped off the concrete path. 

"So what do we talk about first—Voyager or Voyager?" Mark joked. He knew she must have told her stories hundreds of times by now—the press, the dignitary parties, the local organizations; at the market, the transporter hub, the _public_ _restrooms, _probably… 

"Very funny," Kathryn smiled. "Neither of the above! Anything you want to know about Voyager you can learn from our cache of soon-to-be-released holonovels! On second thought…" she belayed that, thinking of the Doctor's personal creative touches. And Captain Proton. 

"Well, they won't tell me what I really want to know, which is how you've faired personally," his lyrical voice rumbled. "Perhaps Tuvok would know. Or Chakotay?" 

Being a civilian associated with Starfleet, Mark would have contacts in the psychology departments there. Knowing of their past relationship, it wouldn't be beyond belief that a sympathetic friend might give him access to the lengthy and thorough debriefings over the last several months, or that someone would drop innuendoes indiscreetly. She had told the examiners only enough to allay their speculations about her relationship with her First Officer, no more. 

She was once again aware of how very little 'more' there was to tell. Another choice, too late for regrets, she forced herself to think stoically. 

"I would prefer not to talk about Chakotay, either. He was one of my officers and a good friend, but that's part of Voyager and we're not talking about Voyager, remember? Let's start smaller," she joked, hoping to direct his attentions anywhere else. 

"Smaller than Voyager, huh? Easy enough. Well, what if we talk about my marriage." 

Had they divorced and she hadn't known it? He had mentioned in his message to her that they could 'meet Cathy in the park afterwards.' That was different than saying 'my wife', she now realized. At the time, she had been too shocked to learn of the woman's uncomfortably similar name to think clearly. Kathryn was uncertain how to take his statement and wisely remained quiet. 

"Kathryn…ever since the alien array I've spent a lot of time contemplating." 

"I would imagine that's what philosophers do best," Kathryn smiled, gracious. 

"I've never doubted you'd get back home, not after we found out you were alive. I've known you too long, Kat—there's no stopping you. So…I've had to give serious thought to my feelings for you, all these years—" 

"Mark." Knowing about the troubles her existence caused for him and Cathy (yes, that was awkward), she was no longer sure she wanted to go here. But wasn't this the conversation she had wanted, dreaded? How would she know if she could feel something for him without hearing his feelings first? And what had she thought they would talk about, the weather? She needed to know where their relationship stood. Their boundaries. 

Fuck boundaries. Where had they gotten her? She had seen where boundaries would lead. Empty personal space. 

"You were always a special love to me, Kat, since we were children practically. It just took me awhile to convince you, of course…" They laughed carefully. 

"I came around, though," Kathryn tried. 

"But part of that package was always worship, too—you were always something so special, I would have followed you anywhere, protected you at all costs, I think. Do you have any idea how fiercely you engender loyalty, Kat?" 

Tuvok, and Chakotay flashed behind her eyes. Grateful and awed by their fidelity, she had never truly felt deserving, not to the degree that they bestowed it. 

He continued, his face softening now. "I could argue that we're not the same people who were engaged seven years ago, especially you. Buuuut, I think we both know that the qualities I love most about you are the timeless ones," he grinned fractionally. 

"Yes, and I could say the same for you," she smiled. It was true. All the qualities that attracted her to him were still there. He was quiet and hard to ruffle, intelligent and stable. He had a dry sense of humor, and strong roots that balanced her wanderlust well. None of that had changed, she saw. 

He studied her critically for a moment, his face unreadable. But a small smile played at the corner of his lips. "I would have thought you might have found someone—no specific names mentioned," he put his hands up. "It's been seven years, and you've known about my situation for nearly four of them. Gods, Kat, you might have been out there most of your life. Couldn't you have—" 

"It was not even a consideration, Mark. And with whom? All of them served under my command. Protocol—" 

Mark barked out a sharp laugh and looked away. He mumbled a curse, so unusual for him that Kathryn was surprised. 

"Protocol…arbitrary rules to fit all occasions. And you're so strong-willed you would have followed them for the full seventy years, too, to do your duty. But your situation was so unique, Kat, so unique. 

"I knew there was a reason why I never considered Starfleet as a career choice. I'm a tailor-made kind of guy, myself. The willow bends," he ended metaphorically. 

"Why are you so upset?" she asked, uncertain of his motives. 

"Because I'll always love you, Kat, I thought we already covered that ground! I don't want to think about what might have happened to you if you had stayed out there, following your path and your protocols! I'm glad you made it home so you can give and receive love the way I know you can—the way you deserve!" He ran his hands through his hair while he calmed himself, steadied his breathing. He was compassionately shaken. Kathryn's eyes misted to see it. He hugged her then, just appreciating her presence and she sank into it. He loved her unconditionally, and on so many levels. It had been so long since she had let herself… 

"You deserve it so much, Kat…even if it won't be with me." 

It was unexpected. After the build-up that went before, Kathryn didn't know what she felt. 

"What do you mean?" she asked carefully shielding her feelings. He moved from their embrace to wrap an arm around her—Kathryn felt it as solicitous now—and they began walking toward the fountain down by the grove of weeping willows. Quite a few people were nearby. The playground was liberally sprinkled with children and their caregivers. There were small boat rentals and food kiosks. A marshal arts class practiced by the pond, floating ethereally across the grass in slow motion. Why such a public place, Kathryn wondered, for she knew Cathy would be down there. 

"I was still mourning you when I met Cathy. She knew my situation and didn't pursue me, but she felt from the start that she and I had something together." Kathryn noticed he didn't use the word love, or magic. "Eventually I came around to see it, too." 

They continued on slowly in the dappling of the sunlight through the leaves. 

"And then you heard from us through the alien array," Kathryn spoke softly. Mark didn't answer right away, and she didn't push him. 

"It was very difficult for her. We hadn't been married all that long when suddenly Starfleet called wondering if the Captain's fiancé would like to send her a letter because, surprise! She's alive. Cathy got the message, alone, while I was attending a conference in First City, on Mars." 

Like her mother and sister attending the wedding, she tried to imagine what it must have been like for Cathy. 

"It was a very difficult year for us. We got into mediation. Eventually, I took some time off from work. 'Contemplated', as I said. It was about then that I heard about the Pathfinder project," Mark put his hands in his pockets, then, and shrugged. 

And Kathryn saw her. A woman in a white dress, directly facing her and Mark. She might have shared a similar name with the woman, but that was about all. She had blonde hair pulled neatly back. She was stockier than Kathryn, and much taller. But her face seemed kind, though her expression as they approached was pensive. She kept glancing nervously away. 

Suddenly, she grinned, and appeared to be tracking something. Kathryn turned in time to see a blur blindside Mark, who scooped up a young boy, laughing. 

"And about that same time, I heard about this guy being on the way." He respectfully turned to his wife first but Cathy interrupted him gently. 

"There's no need for introductions, Mark. Captain Janeway, I'm very pleased to meet you. And in light of the awkward situation, I want to add that I really do mean that." She smiled carefully and stuck out her hand. Kathryn took it, though she wasn't aware how. 

"And this," Mark crowed proudly, " is Hobbes." 

Kathryn felt herself go onto autopilot. This was alien for her—as alien as anything in the Delta Quadrant. First contact. First contact. 

She smiled crookedly at the boy, but Mark saw past the facade. He put two and two together and frowned, mortified. 

"You didn't know, did you? I-I had thought you knew; when you first got home, I sent you a message and mentioned the children—" 

"Children?" Kathryn was afraid she was going to be ill. 

"Yes—we found out we were expecting our second child the day after you got back. We thought you had brought us luck," Mark stated numbly. Cathy touched her belly even though she was not showing much yet and smiled, tried to be encouraging. 

"There were so many messages then. I didn't expect to hear from you there. Often, I'd just erase them…" 

The silence sat there, cloying to them all. Fortunately, Hobbes was not much for silence. "I-ceem," he asked happily, pointing to one of the vendors. Cathy looked relieved. 

"Mark, do you want me to take him…" Mark kissed the toddler and handed him over to his mother, who headed for the kiosk under a willow, holding the little hand. Mark's child… 

"How old?" Kathryn finally said. 

"Twenty months soon. Kat, I would _never _hurt you this way; I just assumed—" 

"Not your fault. Please, don't." She grinned in sympathy for his mortification, but she needed to get out of there. 

He couldn't stop apologizing. He was quiet about it, but it only made things worse. 

"So. You named him _Hobbes_?" she tried for humor, dredging up the connotations of Mark's childhood nickname with her tone. 

"Well, it helped that Cathy's maiden name is Hobson. What was so horrible in childhood looks more attractive as you get older. I have some fond memories of being called that now, by at least one person," he grinned. They smiled into each other's eyes then. Kathryn saw little Hobbes start back, Cathy right behind with napkins. She had laugh lines, Kathryn noticed. She addressed Mark while continuing to watch their approach. 

"Mark. Just tell me you love her. You never said that you loved her earlier." 

"I love her for herself. For who she is and how good she's been for me. We've worked out our problems in the last year and we'll be good for each other from here on out." He smiled genuinely at the dubious look on her face and put his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. "I wouldn't have agreed to make another baby if that weren't true, and you know that. You know me." 

"I do, Mark. Thank you for not making me wait to find out," she grinned ruefully. 

She agreed, in a dreamlike state, to have dinner with them the next time they were in town visiting Mark's father. They could catch up on…what were they saying? It didn't matter. With her best negotiating face on, she offered her heartiest wishes and made her excuses. With a wave, she turned her back and began the difficult walk away. 

She realized with a start that he _had_ stirred feelings within her after all. She felt a strong affection for Mark. And she felt relief and happiness for him that things had worked out well, despite losing his fiancé seven years previous. And she felt an icy numbness at the thought that, perhaps, her elder self had tried all these things, too, along _her_ way. 

Kathryn stepped reluctantly onto the concrete path and slowly started back toward town. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

He had thought to surprise her but perhaps he should have known better where Sveta was concerned. Chakotay felt a nostalgic grin form despite the gravity of his visit. 

He waited in the dry heat outside the New Mexico rehab facility as she approached him with her regal grace that the years had only embellished. So swiftly and silently had the remaining imprisoned Maquis been released on the heels of the Voyagers' trials that there had been no time for Chakotay, relatively newly released himself, to obtain a permit to enter. In fact, if not for a courtesy call from Commodore Salada, he would never have known until the deed was done. 

No matter, he thought. It was fitting that they reunite outside anyway. 

Very little had changed, he was pleased to note. Her nearly transparent hair was much longer. It swayed hypnotically behind her as she moved toward him as if guided by sensors. She was sallow, her cheeks a bit more prominent than when he had last seen her, in a Maquis contact barfront. 

Without a word or break in stride the svelte woman approached until she stood toe to toe. Then she grinned serenely and enveloped him in a hug, which he gratefully returned. 

"I'm tremendously sorry." It was a declarative statement, as if in answer to an unspoken question. The tranquil hum in her voice had always been there, but it surprised him pleasantly again all the same. She hadn't lost the soft Russian trill in her speech. 

"I don't understand," Chakotay followed, trusting her. 

"For not contacting you to offer my support since your return. I wanted to. But you and Voyager's Maquis were our only way out of Rehabilitation anytime in the near future. I wouldn't risk upsetting your pardons, though really they were just a matter of form, by allowing the highest-level Maquis Coordinator," she indicated herself with suppressed humor, "to contact the glory-cloaked Maquis Captain." 

They both knew that 'our' was the surviving Maquis still kept imprisoned in various facilities on Earth, and Chakotay understood. But the comment about the Voyager pardons being a 'matter of form' caused his brow to furrow. Sveta had always seemed to be in charge of things, especially herself, but not without reason. Could she—even from prison—have had information he and his people lacked? 

His people. He realized with a sense of satisfaction that he had instinctively meant all the imprisoned Voyagers, not only the Maquis. He had indeed grown past that simple designation long ago and proudly led all of Kathryn's people as well as his own. But the Maquis had been everything to him at one time so he had to know. That was why, ultimately, he had come—because there were things he had to know. 

And Sveta had answers of all kinds, it appeared. 

Before stepping back and starting out down a side street, Chakotay's old friend and lover surprised him by running a quick hand over his brush cut. She grinned mysteriously as he caught up with her. 

"What?" he chuckled. 

"No gray," she declared. 

Chakotay smiled at their old familiarity, which picked up right where they had left off. 

"Well, that's temporary. I stopped those treatments when I left Voyager." It was a simple enough intermix with his boosters. He had casually agreed to it one day, early on in their trip, when the Doctor was on a solicitous streak to improve his interpersonal skills. Frankly, encouraging the Doctor's attempts at altruism had been more important than what color his hair was. Well, mostly anyway, he admitted ruefully. It _had_ been a bit uplifting to turn back the clock in his morning mirror. 

But no longer. He found with every passing day that he was very much looking forward to seeing more and more of his father there in the near future. 

His friend turned purposefully onto a street that led into the city proper, though it was still some distance off. It gave Chakotay the impression that she had a specific destination in mind. Hadn't that always been the way with Sveta though, Chakotay reminded himself? 

"Where are we headed?" he asked. 

"That depends," the lithe woman answered immediately. 

"On what?" 

"On how much we need to discuss," she replied perceptively. She moved closer to her former comrade-in-arms until their shoulders bumped as they sauntered. 

Evening was approaching, and the day's heat had gathered heavy and still before the cooling breezes from the sun's passing would wash it away. There was an oppressive quality to it and Chakotay could feel his thin cotton shirt stick lightly to his chest. 

"I _need_ to know," he began quietly, "what happened to us, Sveta, to the Maquis. How could we start out so right about everything—and we _were_ proved right, in the end—only to become…" he hesitated, unwilling to compare his dead friends to their treacherous enemy, even if it was true. "I mean, Sveta—poisoning water supplies? Irradiating populated atmospheres to force enemy colonies out? You only spiting yourself in the end if the planet is near your own sector of space—" he began to try and rationalize, then stopped when he saw how daunting a task it would be once he got started. 

"Chakotay," she spoke sadly. She knew that he wanted some complex answer that would explain how something so noble could tarnish the way it did. She also acknowledged that at one time, he had placed so much of his own personal identity into who the Maquis were that their fall—not to their enemies but to an evil within—felt like a betrayal of his own instincts. 

But it wasn't like that at all. There was only one real answer that summed everything up for him neatly, concisely. 

"Chakotay—nothing happened to us that didn't happen to the Federation _first_," she stated, every word steeped in conviction. 

"But—" 

"I know you've seen the timeline of events, if not on Voyager then in the last four months—ignorance never suited you." 

"Yes," he admitted. "It was sent to my captain who shared it readily with the rest of us." Chakotay snorted to himself. He didn't bother her with the irony he had uncovered. That on the day their friends were being massacred in the Badlands, Voyager's mixed crew was fighting tooth and nail to save two of their own—Tom Paris and Tuvok—from dead Cardassian agent Seska, and her treachery on the holodeck. Working together—with both Federation and Maquis tricks—they had succeeded in overcoming their enemy. 

"The War took its toll on common sense and compassion early," Sveta murmured, whisper-soft. "Paranoia about Shapeshifters quickly made people less trusting and less forgiving. Even when the Cardassians showed their true colors by allying with the Dominion, the Federation chose to continue our condemnation instead of lauding us for the courage and insight we had exhibited. We could have been useful to the Federation. We were them, once," Sveta shook her head sadly at the waste of it all. 

Chakotay thought again about how Voyager's solution—to combine forces and celebrate the diversity two different crews possessed to achieve a goal—had saved Tom and Tuvok's lives. Proof that perhaps Kathryn Janeway, with her wisdom and faith, was smarter than the entire Federation Council. 

"I can understand what betrayal makes sane people do," Chakotay conceded, Seska still fresh in his mind. "Tell me what happened when the Cardassians attacked. What about Briggsy; was he still your First Off—" 

"I won't tell you specifics." 

Chakotay blinked. "What?" 

"I will reminisce with you, Chakotay, but I won't rehash the details that are best left unknown." 

"Sveta, I just need to—" 

"Need to what, Chakotay? Torture yourself with the ugly details of everyone's death so you can feel some visceral connection to what you were lucky enough to avoid? Honor them nightly in your nightmares that you would have me supply? There is no need." She hurried on to interrupt his objections. "Chakotay, you have the heart of a warrior but the soul of a poet. But the warrior is only a front, to protect the true you, the poet—why tarnish him with images that you were spared in the first place? 

"There are so few of us left, Chakotay. I think the dead would like to know that they would be remembered for who they were and what they did rather than for how horribly they died, don't you?" 

She looked into his face to be sure he would acquiesce to her logic. Though his jawline tightened, he nodded. Then, she began to speak. 

As they reached the town limits they talked at length about certain people they had known individually—the quirky ones and the frightening ones. Chakotay told her the amazing story of Suder. They passed two transportation centers while they discussed the ones they barely knew and the ones they could never forget. They remembered the friends who were the finest people they would ever know, now gone forever. 

Chakotay closed his eyes and dipped his head at the pain of the losses, new to him. But Sveta was right—he would keep them now in his memory, alive and vital. Real people who had chosen a difficult path in order to do what they felt was right. 

LePaz, Meier, Nelson, SaReen—he remembered vividly the litany of names he had shot off at B'Elanna the year before last, when she had 'killed' them in her holoprogram in an attempt to make the news of the Maquis' holocaust real. Her simulations weren't real, but still Chakotay could see the burnt, raw faces his friend had been ill enough to create on the cratered floor of the holographic cave. 

Well, there was one bright spot Sveta had been willing to share: B'Elanna's creation wasn't prescient in any way. LePaz and Nelson had both survived the War and would no doubt be experiencing their own releases soon from another rehab facility in Europe. And while Meier did die on Tevlik's moon, SaReen perished in an accidental munitions explosion aboard his ship several months before that. 

"I don't understand fully anyway why the Maquis were still in these facilities," Chakotay jerked his head back the way they had come, "or worse, up to now. The War ended ages ago, and those we fought against turned out to be traitorous long before that, just like we in the Maquis had always advocated!" The emotion-packed visit was beginning to show on Chakotay. Sveta quietly reached up and took his forearm in her hands and gave a quick squeeze to calm him. She had had several years to plot out the situation; it was old news to her. 

"We should have been released long ago, if 'rehabilitation' meant what it was supposed to," she rolled her eyes in mild disgust, almost dismissively_. How does she do that_, Chakotay thought, _remain so calm about all this? How can she not feel anger?_

"When the War ended, and the Cardassians were hoisted by their own petard we ceased to be a threat—to anyone, let alone any society. But the end of the War also brought an end to public interest in our case. This world saw battle, Chakotay, for the first time in centuries—it was frightening, and people just wanted to move past it quickly. 

"Cardassian pride was the only thing left that maintained any interest in the Maquis. The anguish of losing so much of their culture has caused their politicians to focus on 'the little things'. Keeping us imprisoned through petitions to our own court systems satisfied some vengeful little need on their part, and provided the Council with a political bargaining chip for Cardassian agendas. 

"Such a polite little arrangement, so difficult to end," her low voice hummed, and she shrugged. "Then came Voyager. It was past time to end our usefulness to politics. Someone was smart enough to use the Voyager Maquis trials as an excuse to let us go, finally." Chakotay was appalled, but he could see the elegance of the whole thing, too. The Maquis had fallen through the cracks just far enough to be out of general sight, but not far enough that evil couldn't still find and use them. 

"What will you do now?" Chakotay asked. 

"I have many offers from many sources," she half-smiled. 

"I'm betting Starfleet isn't among them." 

"You'd be surprised." She didn't elaborate, and Chakotay idly wondered exactly how high up her 'contacts' and 'supporters' were in rank. He thought about how prepared they were in their efforts to recruit him in any capacity that they could. Sveta had talents any organization would love to harness. He wouldn't put it past Starfleet to have some covert position or other they could offer, even to an ex-Maquis coordinator and convicted criminal. 

"But like you," she read his mind, "my sense of honor forced me to politely decline." He turned a big grin to her which she returned, blinking contentedly. For eyes such an icy shade of blue they were inexplicably warm to look at, Chakotay remembered. Her calm was infectious. Strange how it used to annoy him. He had been too angry and insecure to appreciate her timeless qualities when he had the chance. 

Kathryn flashed in his mind. Well, that was one mistake he wouldn't be making again. 

Sveta sighed suddenly and looked up, as if searching the heavens. After a time, she spoke. "The Maquis made a difference, Chakotay; I will continue, I'm sure. Many of our reclaimed worlds are still rebuilding. New Murmansk. Urek…Dorvan?" she asked provocatively. 

A small chuckle escaped him at the utter reversal of his recent fortunes. Everything seemed to be going his way now. 'May this streak hold out until I can make it to Indiana', he prayed fervently to the Spirits. 

"Perhaps I'll see you there. Someday," he said as a wish more than a promise. 

"You won't be alone," Sveta answered instantly, with conviction. At her walking partner's careful surprise, she added definitively, "I've seen pictures of you and the woman you love. You compliment each other." 

Chakotay's surprise turned to embarrassment. He also had seen the surveillance holo-stills of himself and Seven when they had been removed from Voyager. The bridge crew had clung together for moral support as they were herded—politely, but herded nonetheless—off the ship and down to the processing area cordoned off by the brass. To his great chagrin the picture of the senior staff—he and Seven prominently fixed center-still—had been picked up by the press and used repeatedly in broadcast all during the trials. 

It was visually striking; he was tall, dark, and earthy looking in the shot, she was slight, flashy, and…well, technically enhanced. He could see where Sveta might be led to believe things that simply were not. He had no desire to embarrass her over her mistaken impression, but even less to allow her to continue on with it. 

"I'm sorry, I'm not with her anymore. It, uh, it was all a mistake," he said quickly and casually, hoping to put an end to the unexpected topic. But Sveta frowned and paused in her step, the first time since they had set off together. 

"You have found peace since you've known her; you're not the angry, damaged man you used to be. Whatever problems caused you to separate from each other, you must solve them." She pierced him with her scrutiny. "Being with Kathryn Janeway was no mistake for you, Chakotay." 

Chakotay was rocked to a complete halt by her conviction as much as the statement. 

"What do you know about Kathryn?" he asked sharply in his surprise. "I thought—" 

"That I meant Seven of Nine?" She grinned lightly and plucked some dried leaves off an overstressed brush as she continued on. "Really, Chakotay, it's not an unflattering picture that the media has plastered everywhere, but it doesn't tell a story—not the kind I look for, in any event," she offered. 

"Where did you get pictures of Captain Janeway and me that told you 'a story'?" 

"Is it Captain or Kathryn? You see, there's the problem right there. That question screams 'standing on protocol'. Was that her idea, or yours, all this time?" 

"You didn't answer my question." 

"I know." She smiled cryptically. "We both know there are plenty of shots of the command team in the public domain, but you didn't automatically assume I'd seen one of those. I'm certain that you've quietly figured out by now that my contacts are current in Headquarters and other places… I think what you're really asking is if I've heard anything specific, something more than the impression I have, because _you_ are the one who is unsure about things." 

She had cut to the quick of him but—typical Sveta—without an iota of pain. Sveta reached inside people only to help them, never to hurt. He wondered if she had had cause to compromise that talent when everything else about the Maquis was being savaged. She seemed at peace with herself still so perhaps not. He was glad. 

"I'm uncertain," he began hesitantly, "about what I deserve from her still. But not about my feelings—never about my feelings," he ended firmly. 

She studied his eyes, drew in a breath. "I don't know Kathryn Janeway in any way, Chakotay, but I do know you. Your accidental journey has brought you a wonderful peace that you always deserved but were too contrary to allow yourself." He grinned at the use of the word this time. Twenty five years earlier, it had hurt him to be so classified. "Your loyalty is dogged, but it isn't this mission that has sustained you all these years, it's _her_. 

"All of you sacrificed in your travels, but we both know firsthand that the captain suffers the most. If she has any feelings at all for you, she will seize the moment, because she has already paid her dues and owes no one anything, anymore." 

She exuded a confidence that Chakotay basked in, hoping that some of it would rub off onto him. She walked into the next transport hub as if she'd been there before and stopped a discrete distance from the idle operator. 

"I know there is no one at home for you right now. Will you be coming with me tonight?" 

"Why are you asking me this?" 

"Because it makes a difference where I transport to," her eyes crinkled in amusement. "I have an offer to stay with one of those 'supporters' we've been not-talking about. He's taking enough risk of exposure as an ex-Maquis sympathizer by putting me up until I decide what to do; I don't think he'd be too thrilled if both of us show up tonight. If you come with me for tonight," she took one of his hands in hers, "I have access to other, more private locations." 

Emotionally, he was tempted, to stave off the loneliness he was beginning to feel as he settled into his new life. But physically, mentally? He couldn't muster the interest. 

There were two things that Chakotay had ever committed himself to with his whole heart. One was the Maquis. The other was in Indiana. 

He took Sveta's other hand, grateful to her beyond words for bringing some closure to such an important chapter in his life. 

"I don't need to explain to you why I did what I did recently, with Seven of Nine—you've seen enough stress in the last seven years yourself to know temporary insanity when you see it." His grin was wan. "But succumbing to weakness and putting some noble label on it is what's put me in the predicament I'm in right now," he admitted. "Being with you…I want to, tonight. But it would be wrong now that I know where I'm heading, and I won't do that." 

Sveta tipped her head and grinned mysteriously, with understanding. 

"You will be able to find me should you need to; I've no need to hide anymore. In fact, I daresay I intend to become quite prominent on behalf of reclamation efforts for our friends' worlds." Pulling on his hands, she tipped herself upward to kiss him, with surprising fullness. But Chakotay knew it said goodbye, and good luck, and a thousand other things that meant she was glad for him that he was still alive and well. He felt tremendous gratitude that the same was true for her, too. Then she pulled back. 

"Go to Indiana, Chakotay. You spent seven years trying to get home. Don't waste another minute in achieving that goal," she hummed convincingly. 

"Thank you, Sveta." 

"It's what friends are for," she shrugged. "Do svidaniya." She walked up to the operator and whispered her destination to him before mounting the platform. She did turn to him with that smile of hers before disappearing, and Chakotay headed back out into the cooling relief that evening brought to the desert. 

A nice night for a walk, he thought. He had some planning to do. Hands pocketed in his khakis he ambled contentedly toward the next transport hub, savoring the gentle, spicy breeze that was like nothing in central Russia, but would forever remind him of it. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Owen Paris stood immobile by the transparent aluminum wall of his home office, watching the late autumn rain fall lazily over the hills of the Bay Area. The season was full of its usual turbulent weather this year—ominous clouds and unpredictable winds and rain, rain, rain. Contemplative weather, he considered it, and took full advantage, though he should have been working. He glanced backward at his desk. 

Mahogany furniture, all of it, antiques passed down from father to child for six generations that he knew of. For some reason his mind pictured Tommy slumped resignedly in the winged armchair. He spoke to his son in ways he would never consider addressing Britt and Corey now, all the while worrying that the dirt on the boy's seat might grind into the chair's fabric. 

Mahogany furniture. He had always thought it was so elegant and stately. How imposing all that dark wood must have seemed to a young boy. 

Thoughts bring about events, or so went the hypothesis in the new Temporal Theories division. Unexpectedly, he heard the thump of footfall on the front veranda steps and the screen opened. He leaned back from the window to see his grown Tom stomp his wet feet on the throw rug at the door and drop Miral's carry-all bag. He threw off his hood and began removing the baby's rain slicker. Owen put down his coffee and walked out to take Miral so his son could hang up his own coat. 

Huge purple eyes stared at him, and he made his usual faces. 

"Hey there, precious! Give Grampa big kissies," he said before giving her raspberries on her moist neck. She giggled, then squealed with delight as he held her sideways and growled into her belly. 

"You spoil her, Dad," Tom shook his head, bemused, and walked the baby bag into his father's office. 

Owen sputtered, affronted. "Oh, like you don't? Besides, no harm ever came from loving a baby," he sighed, heading back into the warm light from his work area. 

Tom finished spreading Miral's Voyager blanket on the floor along with a few toys. Her grandfather deposited her on it with one last growl, and stood to face Tom. 

"What are you doing here at this hour? Not that I'm complaining, mind you." 

"They scheduled that meeting about Voyager today, but the museum people were only available after two, so B'Elanna won't be home until late. And I've got to go contact some of the crew with the list of the specific holoprograms the publishers want from each of them. Mom's only working until four—she said you wouldn't mind watching Hotshot, here, until she got back home." Both men looked down. At the sound of her father's nickname for her, the baby turned a four-toothy smile up at them, drooling. 

"Like I'm going to say no to that?" Owen asked his son superfluously. Miral slapped at the floor with a happy squeal, then found herself intrigued by the speckled targ Harry had recently sent, much to B'Elanna's chagrin. 

Owen retrieved his coffee, turned back to his somber window view. He listened to Tom fix himself a quick raktajino for warmth while he thought about his daughter-in-law and the museum project. 

"B'Elanna has cut a swath through the ranks since she's been freed from confinement, apparently," the admiral finally said to the window. "She's wasted no time 'defining her parameters' where Voyager is concerned, with everyone from the cadet-assistants to the future museum curator, to 'lowly' Starfleet admirals," he indicated himself with amusement. 

"She's pissed, Dad. Voyager was her first baby and she's still the only person alive who knows every little quirk about her. Yet she spent five entire months relegated to the position of glorified encyclopedia, basically. And now that she's out and working directly, some people treat her like an interloper on _their_ turf! Thank god that Professor Chapman, thanks to the Captain's tap, was so considerate of her feelings all that time or I would have seriously feared a jailbreak." 

Owen's eyes darted in Tom's direction fractionally at the mention of jail, but it was enough to let his son know what he had been thinking. Tom smacked his lips at the possible insult, but kept quiet otherwise. 

Owen flashed him a quick grin, hoping to reverse the temperature drop that had occurred in the room. "Well. One Paris and her knowledge are so impressing the 'fleet that some of my colleagues are wondering when the second one might come back to fly for them. I told them I hadn't spoken with you about it, but I thought your family had more leave coming to them." 

Tom began to answer matter-of-factly, but Owen noticed how his son paced over to the shelving and fiddled with the antiques there. 

"Yeah, all our personal leave privileges were put on hold while B'Elanna was awaiting trial. Now that that's all behind us, we still have a handful of months coming to us that we intend to take." 

"Of course." 

Tom seemed to change tack then. "Do you know much about what I'm doing with all this free time I have?" Tom continued nervously. "Apparently, there's plenty of interest in the holos we made during our little tour of the Delta Q. People want to play the games we played, go walking in the places we recreated out of boredom…homesickness." He paused, thinking of some of his friends who had left behind families when they became stranded. Now that he had a wife and child of his own, he had a new appreciation for the pain they suffered through, all the while chatting about dense matter particles, or Neelix's latest creation…he would have gone mad. He shook his head. 

"Anyway, as the publisher approached various people about their programs, my name kept coming up. I'm consulting casually with them right now about other people's stuff, but they're using quite a few of my works, too—I hear Captain Proton is very popular!" he chuckled awkwardly. Tom picked up an old phaser casing, put it back down without really looking at it. "I really like it," he declared, carefully neutral. 

His back to Tom, Owen closed his eyes to finally hear what his son didn't say. A half-smile played at his mouth's corner. He knew it would be a lie to say there wasn't an old part of himself that wasn't disappointed. But it was a part that no longer controlled him, no longer drove him. 

He walked over to the mahogany wainscot, took out a PADD, and tossed it on the desktop. Tom turned at the sound. 

"What's this?" he asked. Owen grinned sadly. 

"My wake-up call. It's your letter from that month you were in solitary in Voyager's brig. Apparently, you encoded it for delivery when the ship achieved contact with Earth. It was auto-activated when Katie downloaded her packet into the first Pathfinder transfer." Tom's mouth hung open—he had had no idea. In the hubbub of the last year and a half that was his personal life, he had forgotten about it almost entirely. 

"I know we've both been too busy to have this talk, but maybe now is the time," Owen ducked his head, hesitating, then picked up his coffee again. 

"Three years ago, when I received this, I was already deep into my recriminations about…us. I was tired of feeling bad about where I went wrong, and ready to forgive myself and go back to my old life—it was easier that way; you were dead. I was never going to see you again, so what was the point?" 

"Dad…" 

"No. I know we've forgiven each other and have been moving forward nicely, but I need to say it, and you need to hear it. So let me." Tom ground his teeth together, thinking. But he was drawn to his father at the window, the pattering of the rain becoming a roar as the storm intensified. The rivulets washing down the transparent wall danced frantically in a panic. 

"Then I get the letter, telling me that you were alive! It also told me that you were in prison again; I didn't know whether to laugh or cry," he said nonchalantly. Tom almost laughed despite the gravity of the talk. He could picture the old man in the throes of apoplexy. 

"But I couldn't stop reading it, couldn't stop listening to you. And I mean really listening to you. I could see with my hindsight that I did too little of that when you were younger. Everything you ever were was right there in that letter, and I never saw it before." 

Tom's stomach tumbled, but with excitement, not nerves. 

"Maybe that's why I wrote it—the situation just brought up so many old memories," Tom murmured. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. About us. At the time I had no clue why I was even bothering." 

"I had so many expectations for you," Owen spoke to himself now. "You were such a happy-go-lucky kid—so compliant. But I mistook easy-going with easy-to-manipulate, and pushed you to my personal advantage. Maybe if I'd pushed less you'd have done what I wanted on your own. Maybe not. 

"So I read and read and read that letter. I always had so many expectations of you, and you know what that letter told me? That you always had only one expectation of me: Understanding." He shot out the last word roughly. Tom could feel the pain in his words and knew the courage it took for the Admiral to say them. He wanted to comfort him somehow, but didn't interrupt for fear of making it more difficult than it already was. 

His father dropped his head slightly and tipped his chin in Tom's direction. His voice was gravelly and very quiet. 

"Tommy, you never had too much trouble expressing who you were; I had the problem paying attention. I agonized so much about all the things you weren't that I never stood back to appreciate all the great things that you were. You've become so much more than I ever expected of you. And all it took was falling from grace and getting away from me to do it." 

"No, Dad, it wasn't all like that—" 

"And irony reared its head again, didn't it? Because the protégé that I hand-picked and raised well in the Starfleet tradition turns out to be the one who could give you the rein I was never able to." He snorted out a bitter laugh. "I owe Katie a debt I can never repay." 

"Don't we all," Tom whispered, fearing for his full voice at that moment. 

Owen sighed, spent. The rain slacked as abruptly as it had begun, his words falling crisply into the quiet. 

"I was never a stupid man, Tom, just awkward in affairs of the heart, I guess. But I'm learning," his serious eyes lightened then. He turned abruptly to face his son directly. 

"So what am I trying to say here? Take the job with the publishers if that is what makes you happy. Give yourself the rest of your leave, though—don't be hasty about it! Giving up your commission is a big step and you want to be absolutely sure before you relinquish it. 

"But flying isn't your only unique skill. You're a talented man in many areas, and maybe…well, perhaps it's time for piloting to step aside and give some of those other talents a chance." 

He reached up intending to grasp the scruff of Tom's neck in approval, but found he couldn't stop there, and he pulled his son into a firm embrace. He had forgotten the profound comfort in the feel of his own flesh and blood. Both men breathed in deeply several times. Neither wanted to shed tears on what was a happy occasion. Owen thrummed Tom on the back twice, then turned back to the window in time to catch a patch of sunlight break through the low cover and stream onto the Golden Gate Bridge. 

"Thanks, Dad," Tom whispered 

"For what?" the Admiral asked. "I didn't give up anything—I can still boast about tradition and the fine family name over in Engineering!" 

Owen studiously avoided Tom's gaze but could still tell he was grinning from ear to ear out of his peripheral vision. 

"By the way, your sister wants to thank you _so much_ for giving the boys your jukebox of 'dense metal'—that discordant stuff you call music." His tone was gruff, but Tom saw him grin as he put his coffee cup to his lips. 

They both stared out the window at the view. Without a word, Tom put out his palm, and Owen casually slapped him five in implicit approval. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Mom!" B'Elanna called up the stairs. "Kathleen just called to say they'll meet you in the grandstands—Kaley had a containment breach and ruined her dress. And Moira and Teddy and the boys just pulled up—they're setting down on the front lawn, okay?" 

"Okay," Anne shouted back, sounding like that was the least of her worries at the moment. "Right now I'd just like to finish putting on these sheets without Miral's help!" she ended with a laugh, punctuated by someone's gleeful squeal. 

"Blame your son," B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "He plays parachute with her all the time; she thinks bed-making is the greatest chore in the world!" A harried admiral swept up to Voyager's Chief Engineer at the base of the stairs as she finished. 

"What that woman's doing making a bed when we need to be somewhere in a few minutes, anyway, is beyond me," Owen, struggling with the rank bar on his dress uniform. "Give me a hand, would you, Chief?" B'Elanna took the bar and grinned at his term of affection. 

"I heard that," Anne suddenly appeared at the head of the stairs and rushed down, carrying Miral under one arm. She waited on the second step while B'Elanna adjusted the errant piece of metal on her father-in-law's collar. 

"You know perfectly well that John Torres will be coming back here with us tonight! I won't have another chance to fix up that guest room if I don't do it now." She addressed her third daughter, then. "I wish you'd talk him into spending more than one night with us, B'Elanna. You could leave the baby here with us overnight and John could have more time with her—and you and Tom would get a night alone." She grinned. 

"Much as he'd like to he can't, Mom. He told us that he has clients coming Monday morning and he'd just as soon be back Sunday night to prepare for them. He's just thrilled to have enough time to be able to stay for Miral's party tomorrow." Annie clucked in sympathy. 

"Mama." Miral peeked out from beneath her grandmother's arm with a sly smile, and B'Elanna scooped her up. "Who's my pretty birthday girl? This time last year, you were making your record-breaking journey of 30, 000 lightyears, weren't you?" 

"Excuse me—_first_ record-breaking journey," Tom corrected as he glided up from the back kitchen area to join the conversation. "She's got piloting talent to spare, I can smell it." 

"I think you better take another whiff, Flyboy, and go handle that, before we have the same problem as Kathleen does," B'Elanna said with a kiss and a handoff. 

Much to the delight of the little girl, Tom flew her over to the changing table that had been pulled out of storage now that Paris Headquarters had two babies in and out again regularly. 

Moira's boys burst up the veranda steps and through the screen door, though the noise of them arrived much sooner. 

"Hey, Gramma! Hey Grampa Sir!" Owen gave each boy an affectionate conk on the head as they raced by to kiss their grandmother, smiling at the name that Britt had hit upon as a toddler that had somehow stuck. He would be hearing that four-fold now, soon, once the girls started talking. He could already get a "gm'PA" out of Miral…had a nice strong Klingon sound to it. 

He shook his head to clear it. Waxing poetically when he had a huge operation to help coordinate today! What the hell was coming over him lately, he wondered with amusement. He continued his search for the PADDs he needed for the ceremonies. 

"Uncle Tom, Aunt B'Elanna, this is a museum opening, not a masquerade ball—what's with the costumes?" Britt joked. He was becoming quite sassy, as befitted his age, but lucky for him, he had the Paris smile and 'baby blues' as a shield against offense. Still, his observation was correct—while his grandfather wore his gunmetal-gray-and-red dress duster and corafram shoes, the two Voyagers-emeritus wore the outdated working uniforms that had taken them with pride across three Galactic quadrants and seventy thousand light years. 

"Admiral—I mean, _Captain_ Janeway's orders. She said that _'this is how we served Voyager for seven years, and this is what Voyager will expect today'_," Tom grinned, putting his newly freshened daughter down to scoot over to Corey. 

"Can she do that?" Britt asked the room in general, scrunching up his face questioningly. 

"Today, son," Owen called out from above with authority, "Kathryn Janeway can do whatever the hell she pleases!" 

Tom sought out B'Elanna's eyes, and they smiled. Their sadness and fear a year ago over leaving Voyager was transformed today into excitement and happiness that the old girl would never be forgotten. It was tempered in the absolution of the court system and the resolution of familial strife. It was salved over with a year of childcare and career upheavals that tested their marital bonds and left them stronger for the experiences. And while all this occurred, roots had taken hold and begun to run deep. 

"_Alright, Paris household, let's move out_," Admiral Owen Paris bellowed, reappearing from upstairs, briefcase in hand and feet beating a path to the front door. He scooped up Anne along the way, his hand draped with familiar ease around her waist. The strain their marriage had operated under for so long that it had become like the air they breathed was gone, replaced with a new, comfortable familiarity. Tom's return had given Owen the opportunity to behave in a manner that raised him in his wife's esteem, bringing with it a playful contentment that the entire family benefited from. 

An excited cacophony rose as everyone exited, checking that holoimagers, water containers and diaper bags were in hand. Tom bent down to scoop up Miral from Corey's care. 

"Oh! I almost forgot!" the young boy exclaimed as he reached into his back pocket and produced a small, chunky black tube and handed it solemnly to his uncle. "This is for Miral's birthday, Uncle Tom. It's a telescope, so she can see the stars! It's all one piece, and plastic, so it's safe. I bartered for it at the goods warehouse all by myself!" he stated proudly. 

"I'm impressed, Cor—she'll love it, thanks." Tom started to put the instrument to his eye. 

"Ah-ah-ah—mom said to tell you it's for Miral only, not you. Keep your grubby paws off the baby's toys," he giggled. 

"Oh she did, did she?" he raised his eyebrows imperiously, further instigating the laughter. Corey ran down the front path to catch up with his family. Tom kissed his smiling wife happily, then glanced upward, pensive. They both seemed reluctant to follow. 

"Duty calls one last time," Tom whispered almost shyly. 

"You two going to be okay?" Anne solicited kindly, holding the door open for the Paris, Junior trio. 

"Annie, Annie—they're going to be great," Owen offered kindly, giving his wife a quick kiss. They had worked out all the logistics of meeting up after Voyager's flight, and every other detail, so with a kiss to Miral, the elder Paris couple followed after Moira's family. 

Tom and B'Elanna stood on the porch for a moment with the baby, the spring breeze promising Voyager a grand day. Miral chattered to herself and tried to take her gift from her father's hand. Tom grinned tenderly. 

"Should we drop the bomb about the _new_ baby to everyone today?" 

"No!" B'Elanna admonished. "No, today belongs to Kathryn, and Voyager. I'll pull the Doc aside at Miral's party tomorrow for a quick scan, for confirmation. The news will be through this entire house before we come out of the bedroom, I'm sure." She harumphed. "Bet he finds a way to take credit for it somehow, too." Tom howled at the truth in her jest. 

"Well, we'll just be sure to tell everyone the _real_ truth—that we're blessed." 

Their kiss was interrupted by the determined grunt of a young lady still trying to reach her toy. 

"Hold your horses, Hotshot—let your former test pilot dad check it out for you first." 

B'Elanna tisked. "Tom," she scolded mildly. 

"What? I'm looking for Voyager with it!" He put it to his eye, looking skyward. 

Shrieks of laughter suddenly echoed off the house's facing, and they looked down the walkway to see that Moira, Owen, and the boys had reappeared through the trees to point at them. 

Or at Tom, specifically. He turned to B'Elanna. She opened her mouth to say something, but swallowed the words and smiled instead. She pantomimed a circle around her eye. Tom daubed his socket and came away with fluorescent green paint. The telescope eyepiece had a pressure-activated dye pack imbedded in it. 

Moira was shaking her head slowly. "Oldest trick in the book," she drawled. 

"I warned ya, Uncle Tom," Corey giggled. The boys high-fived their mom, and then headed off once again. 

"Sleeping with the enemy, I see!" Tom shouted after his sister and wiped at his eye with a cloth from Miral's bag. 

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em?" B'Elanna asked with a hug around her husband's middle. Tom tossed the cloth on the veranda, contemplating. He returned the hug, encompassing both his 'girls'. 

"Hey, don't knock it! Look what it did for Voyager, ex-Maquis." They swayed back and forth lazily, enjoying the moment before B'Elanna responded. 

"Shut up and kiss me again, ex-Starfleet." 

He obliged his wife's request, and they hurried off for the transport hub to join their families—both the one born of blood, and the one forged through an act of fate.   
  
  
  



	4. Epiphany by Sheri

Epiphany Disclaimer: I don't own them, I'm only playing.   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Harry has doubts about his future, but after running into a former crewmate, his life seems to turn into the right direction. Chakotay finally goes to see Kathryn, hoping to make things right. 

Epiphany   
_Copyright September 2001 by Sheri_

Harry sat on his bed fingering his new pip. 'Lieutenant Kim,' he liked the sound of that. Or did he? It was something that had been running through his head ever since he got home nearly four months ago; something he was having a hard time finding an answer to. Just what did he want from his life and Starfleet? 

Maybe he did. Maybe he would spend the rest of his life climbing through the ranks until he reached Admiral. Then again, maybe he would prefer to settle down and think about a different career. Maybe meet someone, start a family even. 

The promotion he got when the debriefings were finally over didn't really surprise him, but there were so many unanswered questions right now, he needed time to sort it all out. 

He heard his Mom call him down for breakfast so he set the pip back down and headed out. He couldn't help but smile at the sight before him; his parents both sitting at the table waiting for him to arrive. He had missed them so much over the past seven years, and for a while there, he thought he might never see them again. 

"What are you going to do with yourself today, son?" asked his dad. 

"Well, I have to admit I'm feeling a bit cooped up. I thought I would go out for a while, see the sights," he answered. 

"You didn't say, how did your visit with Libby go?" asked his Mom. 

"I have to admit it didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would. Chad is a good man for her, I like him," said Harry. "And their daughter is just adorable, I should have known any child from Libby would look like an angel. I'm okay, Mom, I really am." 

He hated lying to his parents, but they had worried so much about him for so long, they didn't need to worry any more. 'It wasn't entirely a lie, seeing Libby again was like giving him a sense of closure, but he had to admit it was strange and a little painful, even after all this time.' He remembered the awkwardness he felt, walking into Libby's home. The last time he had seen her she had told him she would always love him and to hurry home to her. Now here she was, another man's baby in her arms, and Chad's arm possessively around her waist. The statement of the gesture wasn't lost on Harry; Chad was staking his claim. Harry tried to reassure him subtly. He had moved past Libby, just as she obviously had. 

"You don't seem okay, son. If Libby isn't bothering you, then what is?" his Mom asked with concern. 

"Don't worry, Mom, I just have a few things to work out, a few decisions to make," Harry said as he finished up his breakfast. He quickly excused himself and headed out to start his day. 

After wandering for nearly an hour, he found himself on the grounds of Starfleet. As he gazed at the building rising high above the bay, it suddenly came to him; he didn't want this, not anymore. His decision to enter Starfleet had been a strange epiphany, one that left his parents and friends completely puzzled. But Harry had been determined that he would make the grade. 

Of course fate took a hand. After struggling through the academy he made it, and found himself an ensign on a fated starship wandering through the Delta Quadrant. There was no way he could change the past seven years; he had made friends that would last a lifetime. He had also had experiences that even some admirals would never have, but he couldn't help wondering what that left for him. What could the Alpha Quadrant teach him that the Delta Quadrant hadn't? Not much. 

His thoughts wandered to the friends he had made. He never would have guessed that Tom Paris would have ended up happily married with a child. At the beginning of the journey, Tom had been so lost, such a misfit in the crew. But Harry had stayed by Tom's side then, and he wanted the friendship even more now. 

He wondered what the Captain was going to do, would she stay in Fleet? Yes, probably, but doing what? And what about the Commander? Or any of the crew for that matter. 'They had been so dependent on each other for so long now, that it was difficult to imagine how they could do anything without one another.' 

"Am I interrupting anything?" came a voice, jostling him out of his reverie. 

He looked up to see Tal Celes standing in front of him. "No, not at all. Why don't you have a seat?" 

"Thanks, Ensign. How have you been?" she asked, sitting down next to him. 

"Please, it's just Harry, and I've been good. How about you?" Harry asked. 

"Oh not bad I guess, my parents just left yesterday, heading back to Bajor. I still can't believe they stayed all this time, six weeks on Earth just blew my mind." 

" Were they here when we got back?" asked Harry. 

"No, actually they weren't. They couldn't get here for almost two months, but that's okay, I had a wonderful visit with them. Now I'm just left wondering what I will do. I feel lost," said Celes. 

Harry smiled at the young woman sitting next to him, and he wondered if she realized just how at ease she put people. "I know what you mean, I feel a little out of place too. I would have assumed you would have wanted to go to Bajor yourself." 

"Oh, I will go, but I figure that I have a few things to work out here first." Celes smiled self-depreciatingly. "My life has always been such a mess. I want to make sense of it before I go running off." 

"I think you assumed it was a mess," said Harry. "You did better than you thought, Celes." 

"Oh no, I didn't," she stated. "Come on, everyone always had to check my work. I was always doing something wrong, making a mess of things." She looked down at her hands, tightly twisted together on her lap. "In fact, when they hear of my service on Voyager, I think they will do their best to usher me right out the door." 

"I don't believe that will happen, and I think, deep down, you know that." Harry attempted to cheer her up. "Now me, I think I'm the hopeless case. I wonder what is left for me out there? I don't think there is much." 

"I think there is a lot more for you than you're thinking right now. Think of all that you have to offer a ship here in the Alpha Quadrant, any ship would be lucky to get you. You may have started off young and inexperienced, but now you know more than a lot of others do." Celes was leaning forward in her eagerness to convince him. "You have experienced things that no one else but our crew has, seen things that no one else has." 

With a start, Harry realized that he was chatting easily with Celes. He felt none of the awkwardness he normally had around attractive women. He wondered why they had never really gotten to know each other that well on Voyager. 

"Oh, I know that. I guess I feel a little burned out, maybe I should ask for a longer leave to think things over," he said. "Actually that might not be a bad idea for you either," he added. 

Celes went to answer but instead started to laugh. "Would you listen to us! Since when have the two of us ever needed to give each other pep talks?" 

"Maybe that's been our problem, Celes." Again those feelings of just how comfortable he was with her came out. How could he have lived on Voyager for seven years and never really noticed her quiet beauty and beautiful eyes? "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" He held his breath, waiting for her reply. Suddenly, her answer was the most important thing in the world. 

Celes looked a little shocked at the invitation yet eagerly agreed. "That would be great." 

Harry let out his breath and gave her a wide grin. "Thank you," he said simply. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Harry took her to a blues café that he used to frequent during his academy days. He was quite surprised to find that she too went there once in a while. "I'm surprised I didn't see you here," he said to Celes. 

"Oh well, I don't think I was really the noticeable type," was her reply. 

"Oh, I think I would have definitely noticed you," said Harry. 

He noticed Celes blush at his comment and tried his best to hide the fact that he was blushing too. He hadn't meant to make the comment, it had just slipped out, but it was so very true. The more he was around her, the more comfortable he felt. They took a seat in the corner and waited for the waiter to come and take their order. 

Their order was another thing to laugh about, both ordering a cheeseburger and fries. "I lived on them at the academy," said Celes. "It was a quick and filling dinner while I was cramming for the tests. Besides the fact that this place has the best burgers in town of course." 

"Same here, I just loved their burgers. I couldn't stop craving them on Voyager. This place and my Mom's cooking, it was all I could think about every time Neelix served up one of his specials," laughed Harry. 

"How is it? Being back with your parents again?" asked Celes. 

"Oh it's wonderful, like I never was away," said Harry. "The two of them don't want to let me out of their sight, I've heard no end of questions about what I am going to do now. I think they're afraid of me disappearing again." 

"I can understand that, I didn't think my parents would leave Earth without me. I had to promise that I would go to Bajor shortly and visit, just to get them to leave," laughed Celes. 

"So are you going to go?" asked Harry. 

"To Bajor? Yes, I will go for a short visit. But I think I have to figure out a few things first, I don't think I'm going in the right direction right now." 

"You should do something more people oriented. Do you know how easy you are to talk to? I think there are a lot of people who would attest to that," said Harry. 

"Do you really think so? I guess I never thought about that?" said Celes. 

"Well, think about it. Its another direction for you to think about," said Harry with a smile. 

They finished their dinner, the conversation never seeming to end. Harry then escorted Celes to the transport center, shyly holding her hand all the way. Once they reached the center he turned to face her. "So Celes, can I see you again?" he asked slightly hesitant. 

She smiled up at him. "I would like that, Harry." 

There was an awkward moment as Celes waited her turn, then, just before she was to transport, Harry stopped her. He slowly leaned into her placing his lips onto hers, kissing her gently then parting. "I had a great time Celes, thanks." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn sat on the porch of her Mom's house, her dog Molly sitting next to her. It was a lazy October afternoon of the first day of her thirty-day leave, and she was trying to enjoy every minute of it. She was staring off into nowhere, lost in thought, when Molly alerted her to someone's presence. She looked up to see Chakotay walking up the sidewalk leading right to her. She was quite surprised to see him here, she assumed he would spend all his leave with Seven. 

He was smiling as he approached "Addictive' Kathryn thought as she returned the smile. Getting to her feet she walked out to meet him and was quite surprised to be pulled into his arms. 

She returned the hug, but then quickly stepped back. "It's good to see you, Chakotay, how have you been?" 

"Not bad, Kathryn, and how about you?" he asked, trying not to show any nervousness. After all, he was hoping for a lot more than just a visit amongst colleagues. 

Kathryn gestured for him to sit down on the porch. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked before sitting down. 

"No, not right at the moment, thanks," he said. "So Kathryn..." 

"Sorry, I've been fine. Glad for all the inquiries to be over, it was quite tiring," she said picking up her drink. "It's warm out here, you sure I can't get you something?" 

"I'll have what you're having," he said with a chuckle. 

She smiled at him then entered the house sighing to herself. She could do this, she had to. Despite the fact she wasn't happy about who he chose to be with, she didn't want to lose his friendship. Once the lemonade was replicated she joined him on the porch, pausing only for a moment to watch him play with her dog; of course only Chakotay would be able to charm Molly within minutes of meeting her. 

Handing him the drink, she once again sat on the porch leaving a small amount of distance between the two of them. "I heard you took that teaching position." 

"Yes, but as a civilian, I still have no plans to return to Starfleet. I think I'm quite happy with my decision, I've always wanted to teach," he explained. 

"You have a lot to offer to students, you will do a great job. Have you had a chance to visit with anyone?" Kathryn asked. 

"Yes, as a matter of fact I have. My sister came here and spent the first week of my leave with me, and I've seen my cousin several times in between," Chakotay said. "It's been great seeing the two of them. I even had a visit with Sveta, it was great seeing her again." 

"She was the woman who recruited you into the Maquis, wasn't she?" asked Kathryn. 

"Yes, and now she's helped me come to some resolution about our friends who died. I needed that." 

"Then I'm glad you saw her, very glad," said Kathryn. 

Kathryn noticed how strained the conversation was going. She wanted desperately to stop it and go back to the laughing and talking of the earlier times on Voyager, yet she knew she would have to bring up a subject she wasn't sure she was prepared for. 

She had a small reprieve when Chakotay spoke up. "So, what about you? What are your plans for the future? Who have you seen?" 

"Well, I've been helping Starfleet with all the technology and information gathered during our time in the Delta Quadrant. After my leave is over I will then continue with that at headquarters. I've also been offered a job at Utopia Planitia, one that I'm very excited about. It's only a half hour commute by shuttle, so I won't even have to stay there." 

Chakotay seemed surprised. "You don't want to return to space? I would have thought for sure you would have headed out on the first starship that came along." 

"I guess, after some soul searching, I decided it was time for a change. I don't want to leave Starfleet, yet I want to settle down at least a little. This job offers me everything I need; keeping me busy, yet letting me finally have something of a home life. That is long over due, but better late than never," she added. 

"How about Mark? Did you see him?" he asked. 

She sighed. "Yes, I did. I have to admit it was a little different seeing him, but he's happy, and that makes me happy. He has a beautiful wife and a son, he's very cute, looks just like Mark." 

"Are you okay with all of that?" he asked. 

"Yes, I am. I really got over Mark long ago, I'll admit seeing him brought up some old feelings, but it still wasn't the same." She took a deep breath, better get this over with. "So, how is Seven? I'm surprised she didn't come with you." 

He looked at her a little puzzled. "You knew about that?" 

Oops. "Well, yes I did," she said matter-of-factly. 

Chakotay closed his eyes briefly then opened them. Looking directly at her he asked, "the Admiral?" 

"Yes, sorry. So, how is she?" asked Kathryn, still cringing over letting her bit of knowledge from the admiral slip out. 

"Last I heard she was doing fine, but I don't actually know. Seven and I split up." He said the words slowly, wondering what she would make of his words. He was silent for a moment, then his curiosity won out over his discretion. "So, what else did the Admiral tell you?" 

"Chakotay, you know I can't say that. The Temporal Prime Directive does not allow it," she explained. 

"Kathryn, the Temporal Prime Directive does not apply since it's a future that did not and will not happen." He was trying hard not to start an argument. "Why can't you just tell me? You wouldn't in your ready room, but we're not Captain and Commander now." 

"Please, I don't want to discuss what happened." She paused, then continued on a different subject, "what happened with you and Seven?" 

"There was a whole new world for her to adapt to, Kathryn, and in reality we wanted different things. Maybe it could have worked on Voyager, maybe not. But here, now, it won't. Besides, knowing what I now know, I don't think I want it to work out." He smiled slightly; maybe he should just tell her what he heard. 

That smile; it was always her undoing, Kathryn thought. "And just what do you know, Chakotay?" 

"I heard you, in the ready room," Chakotay admitted. "You thought I had left. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard what you said. Kathryn, you said that you loved me." 

The smile she was wearing quickly faded, a look of shock crossing her face. "I'm sorry, you weren't meant to hear that." 

"And why not, Kathryn? I've waited seven years to hear you say that. " He let a slight edge of anger show in his voice. "At least let me know if you still feel the same way." 

Kathryn got up from the porch and started pacing in the yard. "How I feel shouldn't matter. I wanted you and Seven to find happiness, together. I didn't intend to be a catalyst in a breakup." She struggled to stop her voice shaking. She couldn't let him see how hard this conversation was for her. 

"Kathryn, this may sound bad to you, and I'm sorry for that. But please, believe me when I say that you weren't the catalyst. Oh, you were definitely an influence," he gave a humorless laugh, " but Seven and I just weren't meant to be." He raised dark eyes to her face. His happiness hung in the balance; her next words would make or break him. "Please, just tell me if you still feel the same way." He knew he was begging, but he couldn't t help it. 

Her answer came out as almost a whisper. "Yes." 

He closed his eyes for a moment, as a sweet and piercing relief washed over him. He stood and turned to face her. "That's all that matters. Can we work out the rest as we go?" 

Kathryn nodded her answer. "I do love you Chakotay." 

"I love you too, Kathryn," he answered. He took her face in his hands, steadying it, before he brought his lips to hers, kissing her gently, feeling her respond to him. 

Kathryn moaned slightly. His lips were soft, his taste was intoxicating; this was better than her imagination had led her to believe. He still loved her, there was no doubt about that now A sense of relief flooded her. 

"Leave it to my daughter to kiss a stranger in my front yard," came a voice from behind them. 

Kathryn stepped back and looked over to her Mom. She gathered some sort of composure before she spoke. "He's not a stranger, Mom, this is my Fir...my former First Officer, Chakotay." She had to admit she was glad for the interruption, this was happening a bit fast, it wasn't what she had expected when she woke up this morning. 

Chakotay reached out his hand to shake Gretchen's. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Janeway." 

"Well, Mister Chakotay, it's good to finally meet you. Will you stay for dinner?" asked Gretchen. 

He pondered that use of Mister again, just as Kathryn had said it on the bridge when she ordered him to take the helm, but then blew it off, now was not the time. He looked to Kathryn and seeing her nod, he finally answered, "I would love to, thanks. Do you need any help?" 

"No, of course I don't. Why don't you kids just enjoy your time together and I will call you when it's ready," she said, moving towards the house. 

The two of them headed for the back of Kathryn's house, a place she had been wanting to share with Chakotay, but never thought she would have a chance to. The large willow tree got larger as they approached "This was my favorite spot growing up, a place I could get away and think," she explained. 

"It looks wonderful, so peaceful," Chakotay said in awe. "Former First Officer, Kathryn? What ever happened to friend?" 

She sat down at the tree, and watched Chakotay take the spot next to her. "I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't really thinking. It's not everyday you're kissed like that by your friend, it threw me a little off balance." 

"Kathryn Janeway off balance, I can't believe it," he laughed. 

"So what do you plan on doing with the rest of your leave Chakotay?" She was trying her best to change the subject. 

" I don't really know. I wanted to see you, so I left my schedule open, just in case..." He didn't finish, he knew she was a bit hesitant and didn't want to scare her off. She was trying to change the topic that didn't go unnoticed to by him; maybe he was misjudging all of this. "Kathryn, we've been through a lot together. And we've shared a friendship beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Above all, I don't want to lose that. You are far too important to me, but I would also like to know just where you want this to go. I don't want to push you, but I do hope for some kind of answer." 

Kathryn turned to look at him, and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her mind was in turmoil, caught between how a Captain should respond, and how Kathryn wanted to respond. She had spent seven years letting Kathryn take a back seat to the Captain, and she wanted desperately to let Kathryn move forward. It just wasn't as easy as it sounded. 

She suddenly noticed that Chakotay had stood up; he was stepping away from the tree. In a slight panic she cried, "Chakotay, please don't go." 

"I'm not going anywhere," he said with reassurance, "my foot fell asleep." 

She let out a little laugh, then stood to join him. "Does it feel better yet?" 

He moved close to her, very close. "Much better. Now please tell me, I need to know do you love me as a friend? Or is it more?" 

Kathryn bit her lip knowing this was it, the secret needed to come out. "I love you, my friend, I always have. I never wanted that to change and was trying to come to terms with it when I found out about you and Seven. But Chakotay, it's always been so much more, I fell in love with you long ago." 

He took her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers once again. Gently nuzzling her lips apart, his tongue just barely snaked in to taste. He felt her respond, her tongue meeting his and he groaned. "Kathryn, could you possibly know just how much I love you?" 

She leaned her head against his chest, enjoying being close to him. "Oh yes, it's overwhelming, but oh so wonderful." 

"I've waited too long for this. I don't want to leave," he said, wrapping his arms around her. 

"You aren't going to, Mom is making us dinner, turn her down now and her wrath could be worse than mine," she said. 

"That's not what I mean," he replied. "What about your leave? What do you plan on doing?" 

"Well, I really want to go to Lake George, the holodeck just doesn't do it justice," she began. Here was the next big step. "I would love to show it to you." 

"Is that an invitation, Kathryn?" he asked with a smile. 

She paused only for a moment. "Yes it is. Would you like to come with me?" 

"I would love to. When do you want to go? I only have two more weeks of leave left," Chakotay asked. 

"Well, give me tomorrow with my Mom. We girls are long overdue for a mother daughter day, and then we can go the day after that. How does that sound?" Kathryn asked. 

"Sounds perfect, I actually have to get together with my cousin again tomorrow. Just for a couple of hours," he added. 

They made small talk for the next hour, finding that by the time her Mom called them for dinner, she was practically laying in his lap. It was amazing to her that she could have kept her distance for seven years, and then have been willing to give him up to seek happiness with another. It had only taken this short time for them to feel completely at home with each other. This was truly home. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Waiting two days seemed to take forever for Kathryn. Chakotay was due to arrive within the next few minutes and then they would head out to the lake. He arrived just in time, dimples in full force. "Are you ready to go?" 

"I am, let me just grab my bag," she said. 

They walked to the transport station, hand in hand. Once there, they were transported within a half a mile from the cabin. Just a short walk later and they were standing in front of the old cabin. " How old is this?" asked Chakotay curiously. 

"It's about two hundred years old, but it's been fixed up many times since then. We did our best to keep everything original, but of course it has a few conveniences," said Kathryn with a laugh. 

"Let me guess, a replicator and a bathtub?" he chuckled back. 

"They had bathtubs two hundred years ago. Of course not as nice as the one I convinced Mom to put in here, but they had them." She opened the door and led him in. "And of course a replicator, I hate to cook. But you should remember that." 

He glanced around, noticing the ancient furniture. "I remember. Don't worry, I will cook. So is there really a sail boat here like in your holodeck program?" 

"Yes, there's a boathouse out by the docks. We'll go sailing later, I love to sail by moonlight. Why don't we get settled in first?" 

They went about their business unpacking their small bags. Both had a laugh when the awkward moment of sleeping arrangements came up, Chakotay simply went to the spare room telling her if the arrangements changed he could easily move his stuff. Both were unsure of just how fast they wanted this to move, and decided to let it happen naturally. 

It was during lunch when Chakotay attempted to bring up the subject that Kathryn had so carefully avoided. "So, are you ready to tell me about the visit with Admiral Janeway?" 

"I already told you we shouldn't talk about that..." she began. 

"No Kathryn, not again. I need to know, please tell me," he said with yearning. 

Kathryn sighed, she did not want to bring this up. The Admiral had said that Chakotay was devastated by Seven's death. Kathryn had taken that as meaning that Seven meant a lot to Chakotay, a deep love that was felt down to the soul. So what did that mean for her and Chakotay? Well, better to get this over with now, rather than later. "She came back for you, Chakotay. You and Seven really. Yes, she did want to prevent several other deaths, but you were the main reason." 

Chakotay looked incredulous. "Me? You can't be serious?" 

"Chakotay, you know I love you so it should be no surprise to you that the Admiral loved you too. Unfortunately for her, we did not get home for quite some time, leaving you with Seven." She paused for a moment to watch his reaction. Seeing his slight surprise she continued with the bigger surprise. "You and Seven married, then there was a shuttle accident. I'm not sure how long after your marriage the accident happened, but Seven did not survive, she died in your arms. The Admiral said that you were devastated, and were never the same after her death," she said taking a deep breath now that she had said it. 

Chakotay sat down in the nearest chair. "I don't know what to say. All of this for me?" 

"And Seven. She wanted to prevent her death and give you two a chance at happiness," said Kathryn. 

"This is hard, I will admit that I was able to see a different side to Seven, and it was nice. But it wasn't you, losing you would devastate me. Maybe in that time line I caused her death, or maybe..." he looked her in the eye, "maybe I realized that by moving on with Seven, marrying her then losing her, that I would no longer be able to have you. I know you believe what the admiral said, and I'm sure to her it was all true. But it's possible she left something out, or maybe she simply did not know everything." Chakotay reached for her and pulled her into his lap, "I love you, Kathryn, no matter what happened in that other time line. And I have a feeling I loved you then too." 

Kathryn sank into Chakotay, happy to finally be enjoying the feeling of being so close to him. "I love you too, Chakotay. Now, not that I'm not enjoying this, but if we are going to enjoy a moonlight sail, we have a boat to go check over and get ready, so get up Mister," she said, poking him lightly in the chest. 

"You are sitting on my lap, and that's another thing, what was with that 'Mister' on the bridge?" he asked. 

"What are you talking about?" she asked. 

"When we arrived in the Alpha Quadrant and you directed me to take the helm. You called me Mister Chakotay," he stated. 

"Oh that, it wasn't anything major really. I guess I wanted to ... give you a hint that the command structure wouldn't be a problem any more. Silly I know, considering I already knew about you and Seven, it was just my way of telling you that it would no longer come between us," said Kathryn. 

He kissed her lightly on the lips. "Don't worry, I did get the hint. Okay, let's go get that boat ready." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The boat was in better shape than they thought, only a little bit of cleaning was actually needed. By dusk they were already to set sail. Kathryn noticed Chakotay had packed a basket, but didn't inquire as to what was in it; she rather liked surprises from time to time. 

He watched as Kathryn carefully navigated the boat out to the middle of the lake, both enjoying the breeze and occasional mist that came up from the lake, it was chilly in the October air, but not overly so. 

No conversation was needed at this point, so a calm silence was noticed all around. It was dark by now, only the moonlight lighting their path. 

"Why don't you drop the anchor for a while and come sit with me?" asked Chakotay. 

Kathryn obeyed, throwing the heavy anchor over the side, she moved over to him." She had chosen a soft yellow sundress to wear that came down to her knees The look on Chakotay's face when she had stepped out of her room had been priceless. It had been a long time since he had seen her in anything like that. 

She had moved to sit across from him but instead he took her hand and guided her right to his lap. "You have a thing for this don't you?" she asked with a laugh. 

"I want to be close to you, I've waited too long to be staring at you from across the way. But, if you prefer..." he began. 

"No, I am perfectly happy where I am now. Besides, it is a bit chilly out, I can use the warmth," she said, as she snuggled into him. 

Chakotay reached for the basket and brought it close. "If I remember right, you do like strawberries?" 

"Oh Chakotay, how perfect," Kathryn commented as he brought a strawberry to her lips. She took a bite, nice and slow, savoring the taste. She ate the rest then asked, "what did you bring to drink?" 

He pulled a bottle of champagne out along with two glasses. "How's this?" 

"Wonderful," she said, smiling but with a slightly giddy feeling inside knowing what this night would bring. She was nervous as she watched him bring his lips to hers. This was it, and she knew there was nothing she would do to stop him. 

The kiss sent shivers down her spine, she was barely aware of him lowering her to the deck of the boat, never leaving her lips. She eagerly returned his passion, allowing it to take over, knowing she would see stars that weren't in the sky before the night was over. 

The two of them made love under the stars, finally creating a connection that they both knew would last forever. They lay under the stars afterwards, cuddling and kissing. Kathryn found that she simply didn't want to let him go, finally settling down next to him, a hand resting on his chest, "I love you, Chakotay." 

He kissed her nose. " I love you too." 

Kathryn chuckled, "I just had a funny thought." 

"What's that?" he asked. 

"Well, we spent all this time avoiding this, a relationship, and all because of Voyager. Now, she's up there, in orbit ... watching us, if you will," Kathryn stated. 

"Maybe we should have asked her to cover up her eyes," he laughed. 

"Do you find it strange that they want to make her into a museum?" she asked. 

"A little maybe, but then again this attention we've got has been a little overwhelming at times," he began. "They are treating us like heroes and to me we just took a little while to get home." 

"I guess in their eyes it's a miracle that we got home at all. After all, it was supposed to take seventy years not seven. We've survived a lot, the Borg, the Hirogen, the Kazon. We had a great team, Chakotay," she said. 

"That is an understatement, we had a wonderful team with a wonderful Captain," he said, placing a kiss on her nose. 

She returned the kiss. "And the best first officer a captain could ask for." 

Soon the chill became more than they wanted to suffer so they decided to head back to the cabin. Both decided to spend another day at the lake before heading back to civilization. 

They still had some friends they each wanted to visit, only now they would do it together. Chakotay had two weeks left of his leave and they wanted to make the most of it. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Two months, and several dates later, Harry stood next to the shuttle preparing to say good bye to Celes. 

"I'll only be gone for a month Harry," she explained. 

"I know, you'll have a great time," he stated. 

"I will, and I'll contact you as soon as I get back, okay?" 

"Okay, see you soon." He watched her board the shuttle and stayed until it lifted off. 

He headed back home, knowing his Mom would probably have dinner ready. His thoughts traveled back to two days ago, when he had invited Celes over to dinner with his parents. They knew he had been seeing a lot of her and wanted to meet the young woman their son had become so serious with. 

He told them she was Bajoran, a statement he didn't think much of, until he heard his Mom's reply. "She's Bajoran?" said his Mom sounding a bit hesitant. 

"Don't worry, Mom, she's so sweet, I think you'll really like her," said Harry with an earnest expression. 

"Harry, I'm sure she is sweet, but I never imagined you with a Bajoran, son, I always thought you would marry a nice Asian girl," said his Mom. 

"Marriage? Mom, we are just dating right now," Harry began. "But even if it does get serious, I don't see the problem with it. It may have not been what you and dad pictured for me, but..." Harry felt a little guilty saying that. He already cared about Celes more than he was letting on. But he didn't want his parents making his wedding plans just yet. 

"Son, there are so many differences. They could create problems, I don't want that for you," she said, placing her hand on his knee. 

"Mom, differences can be good. And as for the problems, let's get past the dating first, then we'll deal with any problems that arise like adults. Please, meet her and see for yourself," said Harry, pleading with her. 

"I suppose, son, if it makes you happy," she said, with a tone that said she would give in just this once. 

He was right, Celes hit it off wonderfully with his parents. He knew without a doubt that they liked her within moments of meeting her. And Celes received a hug from both his Mom and Dad when she left. 

The more he thought about her, the stronger his feelings got for her. She always seemed as if she was unsure about herself, so unconfident. Didn't she realize that she in fact was proving to be the calm center he had been so looking for? He felt that her perceived problems in life were due to simply going in the wrong direction. If she truly thought about it, he was sure she would find exactly what she was looking for. And if he had anything to say about it, he would be right by her side when she discovered it. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Harry made his way home from the shuttle. His Mom stopped him when he walked in. "Harry, there's a message for you. It's from Starfleet, but it came in priority, just for you," she said sounding a bit concerned. 

"Ok Mom, I'll go see," he said, making his way over to the terminal. 

He punched in his code and saw the face of an Admiral. "Lieutenant Kim, I know you are on leave, but your presence is needed immediately. A potential problem with your records has been discovered, and you are needed to straighten this out. If you could meet us at 1300 hours, we would appreciate it." 

"That's in an hour," he mumbled to himself. "Mom, I need to go, I won't be joining you for lunch, " he yelled on the way to his room to slip into his uniform. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Harry couldn't believe it, this had to be the most ridiculous thing he had heard. "I don't understand this. I'm not dead, isn't that quite obvious?" 

"Listen Lieutenant, we just need an explanation here. The doctor began a death certificate that states you perished falling out a breach in the hull. It was never completed. Now we clearly know that there is no way to survive that, so tell me, how did you?" asked the Admiral. 

Harry's mouth gaped open, he had almost forgotten about that. The Vidians had taken over _his _Voyager and he was ordered to take baby Wildman and cross over to the _other_ Voyager. At first he had felt out of place on the alternate ship, like he didn't belong. Yet the entire crew treated him like he did belong, like he was no different. Soon he began to forget that entire ordeal, falling into place like he had always been there. 

He knew the Admirals were waiting so he told them the entire story, the best he could. They acknowledged knowing about the events that took place, due to the Captain's logs, but weren't sure what to do about Harry's predicament. They promptly dismissed him, telling him they would get back to him with a decision. 

Harry walked out of the office stunned, he knew he needed some help. This may blow over with no problem at all, yet then again it might not. He had to go and see Captain Janeway; he knew that if she knew about his problem then she would help him. 

He went home and looked up her address, she was still staying at her mother's so he sent a message, not expecting her to actually be there to get it. He was surprised when she answered the call, "Mr. Kim, it's nice to hear from you." 

"Same here, Captain. Listen, I know you're on leave, but I have a problem," said Harry. 

"What is it, Harry?" she asked hearing the urgency in his voice. 

"Well, could we meet?" he pleaded. 

"Sure, why don't you transport here?" she answered sympathetically. 

"Thank you, Captain," he said before signing off. 

His Mom stopped him. "Is everything alright, son?" she asked with concern. 

He looked at his Mom; what would she think about all of this? In reality she wasn't his Mom, yet she was. After all the ship did split from the original ship, and it all stemmed back to one person. Did that make sense? No not really, but none of that time really did. Telling her would only confuse her, and that was not necessary, "I'm fine Mom, just a little problem that I'm sure Captain Janeway can help me with, ok." 

He headed out the door and right to the nearest transport center. He ended up close to the Captain's house and continued the short journey to the big white house up on the small hill. 

Ringing the doorbell, he stood back waiting for her to answer. "Harry, it's good to see you," came a deep voice as the door opened. "Come on in." 

He didn't move at first, Commander Chakotay was the last person he expected to see here. "Thank you, Sir," he said, stepping into the house. 

"Please, Harry, it's just Chakotay now. Kathryn, Harry's here," Chakotay yelled into the house. 

Chakotay led him into the living room and offered him a seat. "Can I get you anything to drink?" asked Chakotay. 

"No thank you," he answered, trying his best to keep from grinning from ear to ear at the sight in front of him. Captain Janeway had come strolling into the living room, wearing a dress, a coffee cup in hand. She walked up to Chakotay, kissed him, then joined Harry on the couch. 

"So Harry, tell me what the problem is," she said. 

Harry once again explained everything with Kathryn listening to every word, despite the fact that she knew the whole story. 

"Listen Harry," she said, "I don't think this will be a problem. I think they are just carefully covering all bases. But I will put in a call to them and make sure it isn't a problem, okay?" 

"Thank you, Captain. I suppose I may be overreacting, but with how uncertain I've been lately I guess I just took it the wrong way," he explained. 

"What else is the problem?" asked Kathryn. 

"Well, I just don't know what I want to do with myself any more. Now that I'm home, space travel just doesn't appeal to me, at least not right away." 

"I can understand that, Harry, it was the same for me. It's the main reason I will be taking the job at Utopia Planitia," Kathryn explained. "You know, they are looking for a lot of help there, I'm sure they could really use someone like you." 

"Really?" said Harry, the idea sounded almost too perfect. 

"Of course, you are one hell of an Operations Officer." 

"Thanks," he paused for a moment. "It really sounds great, do you think they could use my help up there?" 

"Well, I'm sure we could use your help up there," she laughed. 

Harry let out a laugh. "All this time I've been so unsure, and all I had to do was come see you. You are always watching out for me, thank you." 

"You are very welcome, Harry," she replied. 

"I hope it's this easy for Celes," he commented. 

"Celes? As in Tal Celes?" said Kathryn. 

"Oh, sorry. Yes, we've... umm... been seeing each other for the past couple of months," he shyly explained. 

"She should look into one of the schools there, they are always looking for teachers and counselors. I always thought she would be good with kids," commented Kathryn. 

Harry laughed again. "Do you always have all the answers?" he asked. 

"No, not always, but it's nice when I do," she said. 

"So, can I ask how long this has been going on?" he said gesturing towards Chakotay. He had often wondered if the two of them would ever get together, it was nice to see them both so happy. 

"It's still fairly new, " said Kathryn. 

"Well, either way it's wonderful," he replied. 

"Thanks, I sure think so," said Kathryn. 

They made small talk for the next hour before Harry finally decided to leave. He felt wonderful, and knew as soon as Starfleet took care of his problem that he would ask for a post on Utopia Planitia. It was actually a post he thought he would look forward to. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

It had to be the longest month in history for Harry. He was kept busy making sure Starfleet knew that he was alive and well and letting them know of his decision with his posts. 

Much to his surprise they loved the idea, and sent the formal request to Utopia Planitia, which they immediately approved. They had also sent Harry a message stating that indeed the school on the Mars Colony was still looking for a teacher in their elementary school. 

He glanced at the chronometer once again, in another two hours Celes' shuttle should arrive. He felt like a teenager, giddy with excitement, over the anticipation of her return. He now knew, without a doubt that his feelings for her were growing strong. He wasn't yet sure where it would all lead, but he knew he wanted to continue this relationship. He just hoped that she felt the same way. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The shuttle landed without a flaw, and as soon as docking procedures were completed, the people started flowing out. Celes was one of the last out but as soon as she saw Harry, she began beaming. 

She ran towards him then stopped just in front of him. He noticed her hesitation and decided to act on impulse, grabbing her and pulling her into his arms. "I missed you, Celes." 

"Oh Harry, I missed you so much. I never thought that visit would end," she said pulling her head back and leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. "You look happy. 

"I am, I have so much to tell you," he said as he took her bag and slung it over his shoulder. He reached out for her hand and took it, leading her out of the crowd. 

"So tell me," she said. 

"It was actually an epiphany, for lack of a better word. I knew what I wanted after one simple visit with Captain Janeway. It could actually be good news for you too, if you're interested," he said. 

"Oh? I had an epiphany too, I guess you could say. It was in a conversation with my Mom, who did her best to convince me to stay on Bajor. She said I should take a job at a school, that I would be good with kids," began Celes as they walked. "I suddenly realized that she was right, although I didn't want to do it on Bajor." 

" You're kidding right?" said Harry. 

"No, I'm not," she said sounding a bit hesitant. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that when I was visiting the Captain, she said the same thing. In fact she found... Okay...wait... we are getting a bit ahead of ourselves here. Lets get you back to your apartment, and we can talk more there." 

"Sounds great," said Celes. 

They finally made it back to Celes's apartment where Harry cooked her dinner while explaining his new job and telling her about her potential one on Mars. She sounded thrilled about the idea and told him she would look into it first thing in the morning. 

After dinner the two of them settled onto the couch where they cuddled up to one another, just happy to be back together. "Harry," began Celes, "I don't want to jump the gun here, but I need to say something." 

"What's that?" said Harry softly. 

"I think, ... no I know... I ... well, I love you," said Celes almost ready to pull away for fear of rejection. 

Harry just squeezed her tighter. "Celes, I love you too. I know it's sudden, but I don't doubt these feelings one bit. You too have been an epiphany, a sudden realization of just where I should be, and who I should be with. You are the right one for me, I have no doubt about that." 

Celes turned to face him. "Stay with me, Harry. Stay with me tonight," she said, looking into his eyes. 

"A red alert couldn't pull me away, Celes," he said pulling her into a kiss. Finally Harry Kim felt, for the first time in a long time, that he was home. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Chakotay moved quietly, careful not to be heard by the woman bent over the newly dug up flower garden. They had been home for eleven months now, four of which he had spent nearly every moment at Kathryn's side. As soon as they moved into this small house near her mother's in Indiana, Kathryn had insisted on starting the garden. 

His memory drifted to a time, almost five years prior, to a scene much like this one. Only this time, instead of tomatoes, she was planting the early spring bulbs that would bring them their first flowers. When they left New Earth, Chakotay had thought that he would never get a chance to know what it was like to really love this woman It had taken many years, but finally he knew, and it was worth the wait. The scene before him was much like that from before. Kathryn had her coffee cup sitting next to her, she wore a pale blue dress, and her hands were caked in mud. 

He snuck up behind her and grabbed her, eliciting a scream then a fit of laughter from her. "Chakotay that was not nice," she cried out. 

"Sorry Kathryn, I couldn't resist," he chuckled at her. 

"I bet you couldn't," she replied, "just like I can't." 

He only had a second to ponder what she said before he found her extremely dirty hands traveling down his neck, smearing dirt along their path. "Kathryn, " he yelled. "You are SO going to get it." 

She got up and ran, but only made it a few steps before Chakotay tackled her, bringing her to the ground. He reached into the mound of dirt next to him and began dribbling it over her. He then made sure he had her pinned to the ground, holding her hands high above her head. Moving his free hand to her ribcage, he began tickling her until he had her begging for mercy. "Do you give?" he asked with a mock sternness. 

She finally gained a slight control and looked at him seriously. "Yes, I do." 

"And if you think I'm falling for that one, you're sorely mistaken," he laughed as he covered her body with his length. 

She pushed on him. "Get off me," she yelled between the laughs. 

He rocked his hips into hers. "You don't really want me to get up now, do you?" 

She groaned, rocking her hips back into his. "Umm, no, not really." 

Both were startled by a voice behind them. "Are we interrupting anything?" 

Chakotay quickly moved off of Kathryn and turned to greet his old friend. "B'Elanna, Tom, its good to see you," he said as he began brushing off the dirt off from his clothes. He helped Kathryn stand, noticing the blush that covered her cheeks, she was embarrassed. "Sorry, we were..." she began, obviously trying to regain a bit of her command composure as she dusted off her dress. 

"We were just playing," Chakotay finished for her. 

"I see that," said B'Elanna, shifting Miral on her hip. "Could Miral join you? She would have a ball playing in the dirt," said B'Elanna trying to keep a straight face. After all, it's not everyday you see your former commanding officers rolling around on the ground. She had known for sometime about their relationship, but being a witness to this was a little different. She could actually get used to seeing this. It was refreshing to know that they both could just get down and play. Sometimes that is what makes a relationship work. 

Kathryn straightened her posture. "No, I mean we're sorry you had to see that." 

Tom approached Chakotay, slapping him on the back. "We're not, it looked like a lot of fun." 

Kathryn bit her lip to stop the laugh that tried to come forth, it didn't help much and soon she was laughing along with the others. "He deserved it," she commented. 

"Oh excuse me, who was the one who smeared dirt all over me?" said Chakotay pulling Kathryn close to him. 

"Me, after you nearly gave me a heartattack," she said. "Now, let's go inside and clean up, I'm dying to hold this little one here," she commented, gesturing toward Miral. 

They all settled into the living room, Kathryn taking a hold of Miral as soon as she was cleaned up. Miral looked around the room for Mom at first, but soon seemed to settle with Kathryn just fine. 

"So how have the two of you been doing?" asked Kathryn, bouncing Miral on her knee. 

"Oh, we've been doing pretty good I guess," said Tom. "Just getting used to all of this still. Here it's been almost a year and it still doesn't seem real." 

"I've heard you started your job on Utopia Planitia. How is that going?" asked B'Elanna. 

"Come on, I think you can call me 'Kathryn' by now. And it's going wonderful. There are several of Voyager's former crew already there, including Harry. It's great to be working with them again," said Kathryn. 

"Yes, Harry said you got him the job there," said Tom. 

"I did no such thing, Harry's talent got him that job. I just pointed him in that direction. Celes is quite happy at the school there too. I think she finally found something that she is good at and feels comfortable doing," said Kathryn 

"Celes does fit into the idea of being a teacher quite well. I think she's teaching in the elementary grades," said B'Elanna. "The two of them really make a wonderful couple." 

"Yes, she is good with all the little ones," said Chakotay trying to get his two cents in. 

"Speaking of little ones, how about you two? Any little ones planned?" asked Tom with a grin. 

"I'm too old to have kids Tom," said Kathryn. 

"You are not too old," B'Elanna threw in. 

"Well, I guess never say never. But at this moment, no, there are no plans. We just want to get settled in the new house, and our new jobs. We have a whole new life to explore here, talk of kids may or may not come later," Kathryn said, doing her best to get her point across. 

"Well, I can understand that. I'm so thrilled for the two of you. You seem very happy," said B'Elanna. 

Kathryn leaned into Chakotay as Miral seemed to wind down, settling onto Kathryn chest. "We are, B'Elanna, never could I have imagined the peace I know now. For a while there, I thought I had lost any chance I could have with Chakotay. Seeing the admiral was like a slap of reality in my face, I did not want to grow old and lonely like she obviously did." 

Chakotay kissed her head. "And you won't, Kathryn. Not as long as I'm around; you're stuck with me for a very long time." 

"Tom and B'Elanna moved closer to each other. Who would have thought that the four of them would go from being lost in the Delta Quadrant, meeting as enemies but learning to be friends, to this; one pair married and the other probably not far off." 

No, they would never regret the seven year detour out of their life, they were better for it, happier. It was an epiphany, a sudden realization for all, that it was the events in their life that had brought them to were they were today. And they knew that whatever their future held, they could all do it together.   
  
  



	5. Tuvok Reminisces by AnneRose

Tuvok Reminisces Disclaimer: Voyager and its characters belong to Paramount Pictures. No infringement intended.   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Tuvok reminisces about the events of the year since Voyager returned to the AQ. Neelix settles in with the Talaxian colony.   
Author's Note: I just wrote over 8000 words on Tuvok's thoughts, and now I think I'll go lie down for a bit. Thanks to Cassatt, Shayenne, Cassatt's SO Johnny, and my hubby for beta reading. 

Tuvok Reminisces   
_Copyright September 2001 by Anne Rose_

  


After seven years, Earth appeared on the view screen, but I was unable to share in the sentiment of much of the crew. Not because of any Vulcan scruples about emotional displays, but because it was Earth. One's adoptive home may always hold a place in the heart and mind, but it is not home. 

I did watch with satisfaction the responses of the crew. Their joy at our return was appropriate and I am certain it was gratifying to the Captain. All her years of hard work and sacrifice were finally at an end. I am pleased that her ordeal has had such a positive resolution. 

Over the years it has been difficult for me to stand by and watch one of my oldest friends endure such frequent personal turmoil. If she were Vulcan, it would be a simple matter to place events in their proper perspective. However, I have noticed that humans must 'work through' their emotions instead. I have also observed that more often than not, they become mired in an event and are unable to move forward. 

This concern was confirmed when I met Admiral Janeway. Her life stopped progressing at some point. The Admiral was not the same woman I had served with for so many years. And yet, she still had the strength and vision to seize her destiny before it was too late. Her bold, even reckless, plan to change her past has saved us all. 

I admit, I was having some difficulty mastering my feeling of apprehension at the prospect of a slow and undignified death, waiting for my mind to deteriorate to the point where I would no longer be aware of myself or my situation, and then finally for all thoughts to end. 

Admiral Janeway related to me my future; or rather, she told me of the last time she visited me. I should have been immune to such an obvious emotional ploy, and while I did not allow it to affect my judgment, or my advice to Captain Janeway, it would be untrue to say that it did not increase my concern. I wish to believe my lack of control on this topic was due to the neurological deterioration that had already occurred. Perhaps I have acquired a desire to rationalize situations from such long and close association with humans. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

My departure from Voyager was rushed, and left little time for farewells. I was separated from the crew on our arrival and placed on a medical shuttle for Vulcan, along with an escort. I learned later that Admiral Paris had been made aware of my condition, and had arranged for my immediate transport on medical grounds. Four additional months without treatment would not have harmed me significantly, but I was pleased to be spared the drawn out hearings on Earth and to be reunited with my family immediately. 

I did attempt to speak with Commander Chakotay and the Captain, but I found both of them curiously distracted. I have come to know their moods and habits well during the past seven years, and I do not believe it was the sudden return to Earth that occupied their minds. Given the facts I am aware of, the most logical conclusion is that the Captain has become aware of Commander Chakotay's unfortunate attachment to Seven of Nine. At the same time, I believe Commander Chakotay is beginning to realize their basic incompatibility. 

It is unfortunate and ironic that after the Captain's seven years of selfless devotion to duty and protocol, Commander Chakotay would chose a time just before our sudden return to the Alpha Quadrant to begin a relationship with someone other than the Captain. His choice is illogical and I believe it is driven by his emotional reaction to the Captain's liaison on Quarra. 

I have a deep respect for Seven of Nine, and she has been an apt pupil, but she is not an appropriate mate for the Commander. Their personalities, attitudes and interests are too dissimilar to make a harmonious bond. I believe that once they leave the artificial environment of the ship this will become apparent to both of them. I only hope this realization will not come too late for all concerned. 

In an ancient human religious text their creator states that it is not good for a human to be alone, and for this reason the sexes were created. I believe this is a deep truth about the human condition - one that Captain Janeway has ignored to her own self-detriment. 

Just as a Vulcan cannot abandon logic, a human cannot abandon emotion. It is illogical and unwise to ignore these facts. I plan to make a point of speaking to her about this at my next opportunity. 

As I reflect on the Captain's dilemma, it contrasts in my mind with my own very agreeable situation with my mate, T'Pel. I eagerly await our reunion. I am concerned that my compromised mental state may prove embarrassing to us both, but I trust that our long association and deep affection will make the situation tolerable for both of us until I can undergo the fal-tor-voh. 

T'Pel has been made aware of my condition already, and she will have begun to arrange for the healing ceremony to be conducted as soon after my arrival on Vulcan as possible. She is a logical, able and efficient individual. I am proud to have her as my mate. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The arrival on Vulcan was arranged discretely. A formal welcome was delayed until after the fal-tor-voh. I arrived in a shuttle with my escort – a collection of security, medical and administrative personnel. When we came into communications range of Vulcan, I was, at last, able to speak with T'Pel. 

We exchanged the traditional greeting of a bonded pair. The simplicity of the words conceals the depth of feeling in this ceremony. As with many other of our rituals, layers of ceremony obscure the emotions we strive always to contain. "Parted from me, yet never parted - never and always, touching and touched." 

I have exchanged this greeting many times with my wife, but never have the words spoken to me as they did on that day. It was a wise person who first instituted the ritual of reunion and established that it should be a private matter only between husband and wife. I believe even if I were perfectly healthy, I might still have reacted as I did at seeing her. 

When I transported down to the appointed location, and saw her standing there, waiting for me, I felt such a flood of emotion that I could not move at first. I was ashamed to have her see me like this. Even after all our years together, there are some things even a mate should not have to endure. 

She walked to me and held out her hand. I saw the questions in her face, as she watched me struggle with my emotions at seeing her. I will always treasure her words at that moment. "Tuvok, my husband, forgive me, but I find I am pleased more than I can say that you cannot contain your joy at our reunion. I too am overwhelmed with joy to see you, alive, and soon to be well and whole." 

She held up her hand to me, so that I could caress her fingers. I feared I might weep at the beauty of the moment. She knew what I could not say, and leading me to a nearby bench, we sat and I listened to her tell me of our family. Our sons Sek, Varith and Elieth and our daughter Asil are all well. Sek's child T'Meni is healthy and active. I could not wish for more. 

Then T'Pel asked me for the thing I had feared, although logically I knew it was an irrational fear brought on by the disease. Still, I could not master my fear. "Tuvok, my husband, can we not share our thoughts? I know your concern on this matter, but would it not be better to share your thoughts with me now, before the fal-tor-voh when you must meld with the healer? Allow me to share your burden. I can also help to prepare you for the procedure so that your mind will be strong." I knew her logic was sound while mine was flawed. I nodded and prepared. 

She placed her hands on my face and looked into my eyes. I forced myself to return her gaze and to master my fear. "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts," her voice came to me quietly in my mind. After a moment, a renewed calm filled me. For the first time in 14 months my mind was my own again. I thanked T'Pel for restoring me, if only for a short time. She was correct. It would make the fal-tor-voh much easier. 

Then we wandered through our memories of the time since we last saw each other. The true nature of my mission with the Maquis, then the shock of learning we were trapped a lifetime away from home. I saw T'Pel's despair when she learned we were given up for lost, and then the joy we each felt when the first communication was established with the Alpha Quadrant. 

I saw the birth of my granddaughter, and the accomplishments of my sons and daughter at school. I was proud of the way T'Pel guided the family and of the choices she made for our children during my absence. They could not have been in better care. 

Finally, we reached the time of the Pon Farr. T'Pel was intrigued by my choice for resolving it. I found I was relieved that she was not offended by my choice, and was even pleased that I noted the difference between the hologram's ears and hers. She had undergone the meditative path for her own resolution, but as I was already experiencing some loss of mental control, I was unable to succeed with my attempts. 

When we severed the meld, it was as if the last seven years of separation had not occurred at all. I know that other species pity us because they think we do not feel life and fail to experience it fully. I pity them instead, because they will never know the peace that logic brings or the full sharing of two minds. 

"My husband," T'Pel said. "I can summon the healer immediately, while you are feeling stronger." 

"Yes, please do. I wish to be well, and to see our family as soon as possible." 

T'Pel activated her communicator and a moment later the healer materialized. He approached me and took T'Pel's seat on the bench. I pulled back, even as I realized it was an emotional reaction, but could not stop myself. 

"Tuvok," the healer said, "I have performed the fal-tor-voh on many patients. Your reaction is the customary one – fear you wish to control, and shame at not controlling it. But we will heal the wound in your mind, and you will be whole again." 

Reaching out, he took my face in his hands. "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts," his voice echoed in my mind. There was no peace in this meld. In fact, the control I had left me, as his mind sought out the damaged areas and began to knit them back together. But then, with each passing moment, I felt stronger and more of my control returned. It was agony waiting for the procedure to be completed. At last it was done, and the meld was severed. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

I spent the next day recovering from the fal-tor-voh at my home. T'Pel had arranged for all visitors to be kept away until I was myself again. It is good to be home again where a simple communication can accomplish what would require dozens of security officers on Earth. 

On the following day I was able to meet with my family, and to hold my granddaughter. She is almost 3 years old, and understands the basics of logic and reasoning. She even played a game of Kal-Toh with me. The game resembled the Earth game 'Pick-Up-Sticks' more than Kal-Toh, much to her parents chagrin, but my time among humans has taught me a tolerance for such things that I did not realize I had. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Against the wishes of the security personal assigned to me, Starfleet Medical allowed me a week to recover and spend time with my family. An unnecessary concession, but I did not see any reason to argue with them. Their apparent deference could be useful, depending on the course they pursue with the Voyager crew. 

On the eighth day after our return, I met with the Starfleet representatives to confirm my logs and reports, and to answer their questions. I found the choice of the officer assigned to work with me fascinating. Commander Sanoc was an able and efficient officer. He was accompanied by two human aides, but he conducted the briefing himself. 

The use of a Vulcan did alleviate most of my concern about Starfleet's motives in these debriefings. The questions were efficient and logical. I had little concern that they concealed another agenda. 

Also, I was pleased to have limited interaction with Commander Sanoc's aides. They were among the worst sort of Starfleet officers. While I did not take personal offense at their disrespectful comments about my home world, their unfavorable comparisons of Vulcan to Riisa, and their declaration that only the devil himself could live in such a climate, showed an unfortunate lack of professional decorum. I noted as much in my official report and to their superior. I fear for the future of the Federation if there are many such officers currently in service. 

The first day was unremarkable. He questioned me about the factual details of my logs. There were numerous references to my reports on the former Maquis personnel, their performance and ongoing development. I remember particularly the questions about my security concerns regarding the former Maquis. 

I detailed my evolving posture on those crewmen. At first I devoted much of my time to ensuring that no mutiny or other security risk developed. These precautions proved useful when Seska's true identity was discovered and when the second spy was uncovered. However, it became clear after only a short time that most of the Commander's old crew were genuine in their intent to be productive and useful members of the Voyager crew. 

I related the incident when I conducted a basic training course for four of the former Maquis. I highlighted Commander Chakotay's assistance in this endeavor. While his style of motivation was unorthodox, it was clearly effective and very efficient. After his confrontation with the four trainees, I found them increasingly willing and able students. 

I noted that this surprised the aides. They asked if I thought it unusual, that Commander Chakotay would side with Captain Janeway against his crew. I corrected them. We were one crew, and Commander Chakotay was doing, as he always did, what was best for that one crew. 

The second day focused more on the Captain's command decisions. We went over the major decisions of the past seven years. I supported the Captain because I believe her decisions were logical and sound in most cases. In other cases, I put my trust in her instincts. 

I have learned that humans are capable of making intuitive leaps that Vulcans cannot. A combination of a Vulcan and a human is a formidable team. This has also influenced my choice of postings after my leave is over. 

The third day of debriefings was shorter and focused on technology from the Borg and Species 8472, followed by clarification of questions Commander Sanoc had received from Earth. In the end, they departed from Vulcan and returned to Starfleet Headquarters to process their information. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Even before the debriefings had ended, I had received three offers from Starfleet and another offer from an organization that seemed to be outside of the Federation structure. I have been considering my options carefully, and consulting with T'Pel. 

I do not crave the position or power that comes with advancing in Starfleet. Once before, I walked away from them and their ambitions. I find that our family has all that it needs, except for access to me. In spite of T'Pel's excellent care of the children, I can see in them the effects of this lack of contact. I do not wish to invite that a second time. 

I have resolved to decline the two Captaincies they have offered, along with the vague 'research' position with the other organization. Instead I will accept the teaching post at the Academy. 

I feel the Federation has great need of moral guidance at this point. I have only had a short while to acquaint myself with the developments of the last seven years, but what I find deeply concerns me. The disregard for individual rights and liberties in the aftermath of the Borg, Cardassian, and Dominion wars are indefensible. The state has put itself above the law in too many cases to easily catalog. As I read the report I find abuse after abuse of core Federation principles. I believe it is time again for Vulcan to step forward as the moral compass of the Federation and lead it back to its fundamental ideals. 

However, if Captain Janeway is offered, and accepts, a new ship, I will offer to serve with her again. But as I know the Captain well, I expect she will choose a posting in the sciences or engineering - a post that will keep her closer to Earth and her family. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

It was odd, but while I was spending my extended leave on Vulcan, I found my thoughts often drifted back to the Voyager crew. I received regular updates on their debriefings, although the official information was vague. I also received many communications from individuals, but curiously, none from the Captain or Commander Chakotay. Many wished me a speedy recovery, as is their custom. I made the appropriate and correct reply, and in doing so I found I had become the "pen-pal" of many of the crewmembers. 

Humanoids are endlessly fascinating. Common courtesy can be transformed into the deepest friendship in their minds. This is especially true in times of stress and crisis. Many of the crew were uncertain about their futures. They did not know what lay ahead, what they might be allowed to do, and how they would decide on a path, once these things were known. I saw myself being pulled into an informal roll of counselor for some. 

I was comfortable to continue this roll with those whom I had mentored on Voyager – B'Elanna, and Gerron among them, but I encouraged others to seek out actual Federation counselors. 

One other crewmember I have remained in contact with is Mr. Neelix. We were able to establish regular communication a month after our return. He is exuberant, as ever, and I find his new position, as de facto head of the Talaxian colony has not dampened his spirits. On the contrary, his role as leader and savior of the colony seems to be precisely the destiny his life has been leading up to. 

Neelix's time on Voyager as Cook, Morale Officer and Ambassador has prepared him to give the colony the leadership it needs. I must admit, I would not have anticipated this outcome when I first encountered Mr. Neelix. He seemed to be a simple trader with ambitions far beyond his abilities. As time went on, he developed many skills that will prove useful in his new life. 

We often discussed the progress of the colony. The miners were a chronic threat, but no longer an acute crisis for the Talaxians. The shields Neelix had installed ensured that the miners could only wait for them to leave their home if they wished to attack them. Like with so many other conflicts, the miners had become emotionally fixated on this one source of ore, and expended far more resources than were warranted before they finally realized the futility and moved on to more profitable targets. 

Neelix was very proud of the colony's progress, and updated me regularly. He also confided in me about the growing affection between himself and Dexa. Their relationship was progressing and one day he asked me if I thought he should propose to her. I fail to see why he would consult a Vulcan on a clearly emotional issue, but Mr. Neelix never seemed to grasp the essential concept of what it is to be Vulcan. 

I gave him the benefit of my logic and my analysis of their situation. Dexa was an acceptable female. She was stable, as shown by her continued care of her son, Brax. She shared Neelix's sense of adventure and exploration, as she demonstrated in her enthusiastic support of plans to protect the colony from the miners. Neelix and Brax were bonding and there was no question that he would accept Neelix as his father. I have noted that the child's feelings are often the deciding factor for their parent. 

This, being in his favor, along with his continued descriptions of their time spent together caused me to believe it would be a successful union. I told Neelix as much. 

He asked me again if he should propose. I was at a loss as to how to respond. He was insistent, wanting assurances that I could not provide. Would she "really" accept him? Was I certain? 

At last I explained to him, that as with any other theoretical undertaking, there comes a point where the theory must be proved or disproved by actual trial. He must go to her and ask her if he is ever to know the truth. 

He seemed appeased by this, and vowed that he would speak to her very soon. However, I had the impression that it might be some time before he attempted it. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

As the end of my leave approached, T'Pel and I began to make preparations for our relocation to Earth. T'Pel attended all the housing and moving arrangements, including selecting schools for the children. Our older sons would remain on Vulcan to complete their training, but the younger and our daughter, would accompany us to Earth. 

T'Pel's efficiency in this allowed me the time I required to complete my preparations. It did not take long for me to compile the selection of texts and lesson plans for the classes I would teach at the Academy, as I had thought many times about what I would do, if I were ever given the opportunity. The security and tactics classes were part of the standard Academy offerings. However, the advanced classes on ethics in combat, ethics in conflict situations, and moral dilemmas of command were new to the curriculum and required far more research. 

I drew on the Federation Charter and the writings of Spock and Sarek for the foundation of my classes. I also included logs from some of the great captains in Starfleet history. I think T'Pel was surprised when she read my plans and saw whom I had chosen to include. 

It was only logical to include Kirk because he faced a far higher proportion of new and unscripted scenarios than modern captains. The majority of his missions included first contact with new species. War with both the Klingon and Romulan empires was an ever-present danger. Many of his decisions in the midst of conflict formed the regulations and standards modern Starfleet adheres to. He lived in a time of less moral ambiguity, and the years since have given ample time to evaluate and judge his actions. 

Picard was another example I used. History has not made final judgments on his actions, but he has shown great moral courage in many difficult situations that put him at odds with Starfleet Command and the Federation itself. His actions in the conspiracy of the parasites showed great ingenuity and intelligence. Even though most of the admiralty and key command personnel were infected, he was able to determine the nature of the plot, mainly due to his keen understanding of the principles of the Federation. 

When he was captured by the Borg and the Cardassians, it was his own strength of character, which was tested. In the incident surrounding the Klingon Imperial succession, he used his diplomatic skills and knowledge of Klingon culture to guide the proceedings, while unmasking the Romulan and Duras plots. 

Perhaps two of his most direct conflicts with the Federation came over the cloaking-transporter device and the incident with the Ba'ku homeworld. In both, he was forced to decide whether or not to defy the direct orders of a superior officer. In both cases, he knew his orders violated not only the letter of the law, but they struck at the soul of the Federation and all it stood for. 

It is my hope that Captain Picard will be near Earth towards the end of the year so that he can speak in person about his decisions. His dilemmas are still fresh in the minds of many and will serve to bring these lessons to life for many of the cadets who have no field experience. 

The cadets must wrestle with these issues and decide for themselves what decisions they will make, before they are thrust into conflict. If they do, the probability that they will make the correct decision is increased significantly. Indeed, it is my hope that many others will also be influenced by these classes and the cadets who take them. Without arrogance or presumption, I intend no less than to launch a revolution in the Federation. If necessary, I will devote all my remaining years to this undertaking. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

A representative from Starfleet worked with T'Pel to select our new home. She gave the specifications to Mr. Morthen and he researched appropriate selections. Each of the 6 selections fulfilled our basic requirements. T'Pel needs a garden area. We each need a study where we can meditate and read or pursue our own interests. The house must be within short transport range of the Academy, but far enough away to be quiet and peaceful. 

T'Pel went ahead of us to Earth to finalize the house arrangements and begin moving in our belongings. I remained behind to finalize my course materials. 2 weeks before the start of classes I arrived on Earth along with Elieth, Asil, Sek, his wife and our granddaughter T'Meni. Sek and his family stayed with us for a month while we settled in and I began teaching. 

I had a full schedule of events to attend, as soon as I arrived on Earth. There were orientation meetings for new faculty, and other events designed to allow us to meet and 'mix with' the other instructors and their families. I found that most of my time, during the weeks before the start of classes, was occupied with these activities and finalizing our move. It was not until later that I had the opportunity to contact members of Voyager's crew. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

On Earth, I continued my regular communication with Neelix. He was particularly exuberant on one occasion, even for him. I had some difficulty understanding him at first, as he was not speaking coherently. It seemed he had finally asked Dexa to marry him and she had agreed. 

It was Dexa who eventually explained this to me, when she joined him on the link, since he was still too overcome to speak clearly. Dexa's son Brax also seemed quite caught up in the event. He has developed a deep affection for Neelix and I believe they will have a harmonious, if not quiet, home life. 

Neelix was most insistent that I convey his news to the rest of the crew, and I assured him that I would. It seems he had lost contact with them during the debriefings and was eager to have news of them as well. I informed him that I had also received only vague and infrequent news from them. Now that I was on Earth, I intended to make contact with them and learn what their status was. Before he could make his next request, I assured him that I would pass on any relevant news as soon as I had any. 

He seemed appeased and went on to relay the plans and details for the wedding. It was to be held in a month, and he hoped the crew could attend via the communications link. I again agreed that I would do what I could to arrange it. 

We continued to speak for a while longer, as was our custom. Neelix questioned me about all my family members and their activities. I did my best to satisfy his curiosity. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

I remember clearly the day soon after, when the Captain and Commander came to visit... 

T'Pel called me from my study, to alert me that our visitors had arrived. I stopped recording my logs and joined her to greet our guests. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

After the initial greeting, and customary offering and accepting of refreshments, they sat and discussed the latest news about Voyager. It was notable that the Captain and Commander chose only the most impersonal of topics. When they were all briefed on the news the conversation paused. The silence lasted until T'Pel spoke. 

"My husband, their behavior is illogical. Do they suppose we cannot see the truth?" 

"I have learned that with humans, sometimes it is best to let them arrive at their destination in their own time. I am certain Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay will end their pretense when they feel more at ease." Tuvok responded. 

Janeway nearly dropped her coffee cup, and jerked her head towards Chakotay. He was stunned as well, but recovered more quickly. A smile spread across his face and in a moment he began to laugh. "You can fool the rest of the crew, Kathryn, but you'll never put one over on a Vulcan." He set his cup down, and looked at T'Pel. "So, what gave us away? Assuming, of course, for the moment that there is something to give away." 

"My husband shared his mind with me upon his return. Even to the casual observer, your behavior over the years on Voyager suggested a very close working relationship. Closer than could be explained by mere command structure, and yet there was a tension. That tension has now disappeared. Logically, one can conclude that there has been an alteration in your relationship. It was not difficult to deduce what that change was." She said calmly. 

There was a long moment while Tuvok and T'Pel regarded the couple. Janeway and Chakotay looked at T'Pel and then Tuvok, and finally at each other. Chakotay began to chuckle again as a blush crept up Kathryn's cheeks. "Give it up love, there's no fooling a Vulcan, and we're facing two of them." 

He leaned over and put his arm around her. She sighed and leaned in against him. Looking up at Tuvok she said, "Well Tuvok, do you think your old friend has lost her mind, falling in love with the man she was sent to arrest?" In spite of the joke she made, the tension beneath her joke was clear. 

Tuvok looked at his former captain and friend and said, "It was only logical. I am merely surprised that it took you so long to see it. It is unlike you, Captain, to be so blind to the truth in front of you. I will admit, there were times when I feared you would never see it." 

Kathryn relaxed and Chakotay hugged her tighter. He looked at her lovingly. "I'd have to agree with you, Tuvok. There were a lot of times when I didn't think she'd figure it out either. Fortunately, I'm a sucker for lost causes – especially my own." He said. 

Kathryn swatted at him playfully, and Tuvok raised an eyebrow. The human proverb, "Be careful what you wish for," came to mind, but he brushed the thought aside. This was one of his oldest friends and a man he had grown to respect. Certainly he could endure their display of emotions after waiting so many years for them to realize the truth between them. 

"So you really approve, Tuvok?" Kathryn asked again. In spite of herself, and their command structure, Tuvok had taken on the role of a father to her and his opinion of Chakotay did matter to her. 

"I believe you are asking if I approve of the Commander? I would have approved of such a relationship, even on Voyager, since we were operating under the protocols of a deep space mission and not a routine short-term mission." Tuvok replied. 

"Hmmm," Kathryn mused, "I hadn't considered that." 

"Indeed. Nevertheless, I must admit that my first impressions of the Commander were not positive. I was assigned to infiltrate his ship and to bring him to justice. The very nature of my orders cast him as an outlaw and a rebel. 

"However, as I observed him daily, working with the crew of the Liberty, I formed a more sympathetic opinion of him. He was truly a man of honor. After hearing first hand of the Cardassian atrocities against his family and others in the crew, I began to form a new opinion of the Maquis cause." Chakotay raised an eyebrow at that revelation. 

"My orders were still quite clear, and I had no intention of disobeying them. But I had resolved that on my return I would do all in my power to cause the Federation to re-evaluate their position on the Cardassian treaty and the Maquis. This became a moot point when we were pulled into the Delta Quadrant. 

"I was further intrigued to see how an alleged hardened criminal and terrorist was able to adapt himself to the role of First Officer with such ease. I watched for a time to see if there was some treachery behind this, but I saw no evidence of this. He was, as he appeared, a loyal and dedicated officer, with the interests of the ship and crew before his own. 

"If there was any doubt left, it was removed on your return from New Earth and the subsequent incident with Seska. Clearly the Commander put the ships needs above his own. It was not difficult to see what had transpired between you on the planet, and how he struggled to abide by your wishes, Captain, after your return. I believe this is why he felt such a strong need to prove himself worthy when Seska returned just after that. 

"In the years that followed, I never had cause to question your loyalty or devotion, to either the ship or its captain. So, yes, I approve completely of your choice. As I said before, it was the only logical thing you could have done." 

Kathryn let out a breath and her face began to relax. "Thank you Tuvok. There are moments when I wonderedif I'm crazy, and other moments where I think I'm just now becoming sane." She hugged Chakotay again. 

T'Pel rose, as if to leave the room, but Kathryn stopped her. "You mentioned your garden earlier. I'd love to see it." 

"If you would like." She said as she led the way. T'Pel showed them around the garden and described the various plants and trees. Kathryn and Chakotay followed her, hand in hand, relaxed and relieved that a last hurdle had been overcome. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

I was finally reunited with the crew at the wedding ceremony for Neelix and Dexa. It was held on the Talaxian colony, and we observed the ceremony and festivities via the new communication link. However, the great distance did not spare us from the Talaxian exuberance. 

Lt. Paris oversaw the arrangements and therefore he bears most of the responsibility for the events of that day. His insufficient protestations that, "At least they didn't have a Betazoid ceremony," did not seem to appease any of the guests. 

It seems that the Alpha quadrant was not fully prepared for the auditory and visual over stimulation generated by a Talaxian celebration. It is odd how one culture will find vivid orange, purple and lime green soothing while another will react in quite the opposite manner. However, I remain convinced that the number of resulting sickbay visits were highly exaggerated. 

Mr. Chell was in charge of the menu for the reception following the ceremony. He did a credible job translating various Talaxian and Delta Quadrant recipes for use with Alpha Quadrant ingredients. 

Neelix expressed particular gratitude about the inclusion of many Leola Root dishes. It was fortunate that Mr. Neelix was on the other end of an inter-quadrant communications link. If he should ever visit the Alpha Quadrant and sample any of Mr. Chell and Lt. Paris's Leola Root recipes, I think he will hardly recognize the main ingredient. Perhaps it is well that he is unaware of the omission. 

The festivities soon turned to drinking and dancing following the dinner. Many of the Starfleet dignitaries departed after the meal, leaving the crew of Voyager to enjoy the reunion in relative privacy. If they had not, I suspect the Captain and Commander Chakotay would not have put on the dance exhibition that followed. T'Pel and I had some difficulty remaining on the sidelines during the dancing. Many of the crew seemed far less inhibited than on board Voyager. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the end of the tension of the hearings, or just being home again. I doubt, as some claimed later, that it was any mind altering affect stemming from the music and decor. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

This past year was very full. Our return, the hearings for the crew, teaching at the Academy, Neelix's marriage, the Captain's and Commander's growing relationship, and the Doctor's trial were but a few of the events. 

As I look back on the trial to decide the Doctor's status, I find I still have what humans might call mixed emotions. More precisely, I have yet to reconcile my thoughts and come to my own conclusion on the matter. I was called to testify, but I was spared having to speak either for, or against him. Instead I pointed out the weakness of the definition of sentience. Did my testimony serve justice? I do not know. Only time will tell. 

I did assist the Doctor by helping in the efforts to contact Mr. Neelix. He has been increasingly difficult to reach since his duties frequently take him away from the Talaxian colony. After waiting several days, I succeeded in speaking with him and it was not difficult to persuade him to use his influence as Ambassador to assist the Doctor. Mr, Neelix spoke passionately, at length, and some said eloquently, in support of the Doctor's rights as a sentient being. 

I was…relieved to not be required to explore my full misgivings in a public forum. I do not see the logic in declaring a subset of subroutines sentient, while the larger whole is not. In fact, I do not believe that complexity of programming, and ability to mimic human reactions is a test of sentience. Further, any precedent once set, has far reaching consequences. The court did not arrive at a test for future cases, and no doubt that will have to be established over a long series of similar trials. But in reality, the decisions will be based on nothing more than human sentiment. 

There is no proof that a hologram, no matter how advanced or complicated, possesses a katra. Without that, can a being be considered sentient? 

However, does the fact that I cannot meld with the Doctor's mind mean that he has no soul, or does it only prove that his "mind" is incompatible with the Vulcan mind? 

Again, as I reflect on these things, I find I am relieved that I was a relative bystander in his trial. The Federation will have many years to ponder the repercussions of their decision in the Doctor's case. And I will watch those developments with interest. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

I look back with satisfaction on my protégés from Voyager. The extended time on Voyager allowed me to forge bonds and friendships with the crew, which are not usually possible on shorter missions with their constant crew rotations. 

B'Elanna was a great challenge. Her temper and inner conflict made her difficult to teach. I am used to training Vulcans, or Academy cadets. In the first case, the student brings many years of training and discipline to the exercise. With cadets, they are sometimes high spirited and unruly, but they have a drive to succeed and better themselves which can be harnessed and directed. 

With B'Elanna, the fact that she was ordered to work with me made the first lessons difficult. As humans say, "You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot force it to drink." This was the way with B'Elanna in the beginning. She fought and struggled against everything. I remember her fidgeting as she tried to meditate. When she finally became comfortable with the exercises, she fell asleep. Strangely that was a beginning. She had finally stopped fighting the process and relaxed. 

After that day, the lessons became easier. I also saw a difference in her interaction with others in the crew. More important, she began to see the benefit of those changes. Her team was more efficient under her calmer leadership. I also know she did not fail to notice that her occasional outbursts had a much greater effect now that her usual behavior was less volatile. I would have sought to curb this tendency if it had not been for the fact that the Captain employs the same tactic. 

I am not Miral's godfather, but I feel close to her since I believe I am partially responsible for her creation. I do not believe her parents could have formed their relationship had B'Elanna not grown as a person and developed her mental and self-discipline. It is profoundly satisfying to be able to see the effect you have had in a life. 

I recently learned that Mr. Gerron would be accompanying Icheb to the Academy at the start of next term. I was pleased to sponsor Mr. Gerron, although it is an outcome I could not have predicted when he first came aboard Voyager. He had such an immature and uncontrolled mind when he arrived, with many unresolved conflicts and much anger. I felt some responsibility for him, since the turning point in his development as a member of the crew was during the Academy style-training classes I conducted for some of the former Maquis crew. 

At that time, I was concerned that he might not be able to get beyond his earlier experiences and become a useful crewman. As is often the case, it was a crisis that caused his change in perspective. Following the incident in the cargo bay, Mr. Gerron began to take his role on Voyager seriously, and began to truly apply himself to his work and his studies. 

In the years since, he has been a regular if not constant visitor. We have had many philosophical discussions and I believe it helped him to resolve the issues from his youth as a refugee. He began to look on himself as a self-sufficient person, and no longer a victim of the Cardassians and others. No one can stand on their own when they are controlled by fear or anger. This fact has caused me to occasionally marvel that other species have managed to develop into advanced civilizations, with all their emotions to hinder them. Those individuals who are successful manage to harness the energy of their emotions to drive them on. I believe Mr. Gerron is one of these, and I wish him every success in his new life. 

Kes is my only real regret. While she was able to develop herself and her mental powers, I cannot account for her later relapse. All our research and the evidence of the Ocampan colony on Sisperia's array, suggest that when the Ocampans develop their mental abilities, it lengthens their lives. Kes developed far beyond any of the others, to a state of non-corporeal existence. Yet she aged dramatically and suffered from dementia. I cannot account for this aberration. Perhaps on her travels through the universe, she encountered a force or intelligence that injured her and caused her to revert back to the undeveloped Ocampan state. 

I do take some comfort in the fact that when she came to us, we were able to remind her of the ideas and hope she had had when she was with us. I believe she was reconciled to her life in the end. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

This week then I spoke to Mr. Neelix, he informed me that he would be joining the Voyager museum dedication via the communications link. This had been quite successful in allowing much of the Voyager crew to attend his wedding, and would be useful again at Voyager's ceremony. 

He also hinted, again, that should the Captain and Commander Chakotay decide to marry, he wanted to be assured of a 'front row seat', as he put it, for their ceremony. 

I informed him that the Captain and Commander had made no such plans as yet. Neelix raised his eyebrow and was oddly silent. I allowed that I too believed things to be moving in that direction, and promised to inform him if anything concrete developed. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Today the Voyager museum will be dedicated. For perhaps the last time, I will wear my old yellow and black uniform. As I put it on, I note how familiar, yet strange, it feels. I find I have become accustomed to the grey and black uniform I wear at the Academy. 

I understand the nostalgia of the crew and their wish to wear these uniforms one last time, as Voyager makes its last flight. The symbolism is fitting and proper. We do not honor the inanimate object, the ship we lived on, but the spirit of the crew that survived the journey home. We also honor those who died wearing this uniform. Perhaps it is not logical, but it is fitting, and I will do it proudly. 

After I finished dressing, I met T'Pel in her garden and we prepared to transport to the festivities. We also carried with us gifts for Miral's birthday. The date of our return home has many meanings for our crew. 

T'Pel and I have selected two gifts for her. One is a Vulcan child's toy. It is shaped like a pyramid with interlocking parts that form a simple puzzle. The base of the pyramid is violet and the rows change hue ending with red at the top. It is similar to the black and white puzzle we gave her as an infant. 

The other gift is a small stuffed Selat. It is only logical to give the child a toy she will choose to play with, as well as one that will teach her. Human children respond to strong color contrasts at this age, and also to soft, comforting objects. Also, I must admit, it will please me to give something Tom Paris will not expect. 

Taking T'Pel's arm, we walked out of our home, towards the transport site, and one last flight on Voyager.   
  



	6. Photons and Forcefields by Autopilot

Photons and Forcefields Disclaimer: Voyager and her characters are owned by Paramount Pictures. No infringement intended.   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Doc enlists the help of Captain Janeway and Reg Barclay to force the Federation to deal with the issue they have long sidestepped...him. 

Photons and Forcefields   
_Copyright September 2001 by Autopilot_

  


The Doctor looked up as the captain walked into sickbay. "Just a moment, Captain. I am finishing up my reports on Miral Paris and B'Elanna. Miral is quite beautiful don't you think?" His smile was full of paternal pride. "It's not often that a doctor gets to deliver his goddaughter." He gave her a sardonic look. "And it's even rarer that the godfather is a hologram." 

Kathryn Janeway smiled and said, "I'm afraid I haven't gotten the chance to see her yet, Doctor. Our sudden return has overloaded my schedule, so my personal time has been nonexistent, but I'm planning on going to see her next. Miral is very lucky to have you as her godparent, Doctor." Her smile faltered and her eyes looked sad as she said, " I think Chakotay will be envious of you having that role in her life. He's going to have to settle for being a fond uncle instead." 

The Doctor gave her a tightlipped smile and rearranged a PADD on his desk. Kathryn straightened and asked, "You said you wanted to see me, Doctor?" 

He looked up at her and his mien was serious, "Yes, Captain. I… I need your help." The Doctor stood and walked slowly around his office, talking as he paced. "Miral's birth crystallized a decision I' ve been mulling over since the trial dealing with my holonovel. Being a godparent usually means that I would be responsible for Miral if anything happened to her parents, but being a hologram I have no recognized rights. If anything did happen to Tom or B'Elanna, I would not have any say in Miral' s fate. Just being declared an artist does nothing to further my rights as a citizen in the Federation or as a godparent." He finally met Kathryn's startled eyes. "Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant has accelerated my timetable, and I need to act quickly. I would like to file a cause of action suit with the Federation Council to finally establish my sentience. I want to force the Federation to define me as a 'person' with the acknowledged rights of all of society," he said squaring his shoulders. "I can't fight for hologram rights until the Federation recognizes me as more than a piece of hardware." He picked up a medical tricorder and brandished it for emphasis. 

Kathryn sat down on the edge of his desk, her mind racing. "I can see your point, Doctor. But why the urgency?" 

The Doctor stepped closer, his voice earnest, " Captain, if I wait I will become just another piece of equipment to be analyzed. You know that Starfleet will be poring over the ship, examining all of the curiosities we picked up in the Delta Quadrant. But if I can file my grievance before the Federation, then my program will be inviolate until after my sentience has been decided upon." 

Kathryn nodded, "I see your point, Doctor. Of course I'll help you. What can I do for you? Do you want me to file the suit on your behalf?" 

The Doctor's smile was filled with gratitude. "Yes, Captain. I'm going to contact Reginald Barclay. He can arrange for someone who's an expert on sentience hearings to advise me, but I'd like you to bring the suit. Not only would it express your confidence in my right to be declared sentient, but I think it would bring my struggle to the forefront of the Federation newscasts. You are the intrepid captain of Voyager, after all." 

The captain looked mildly amused, "Don't worry, Doctor. I think your fight will get news coverage on its own merits." She gently laid her hand on his shoulder, thinking how exceptional he was. " I know someone who I want to call in on this as well, if you'll trust me. He's a bit of a celebrity in his own right." She grinned. 

The Doctor nodded, "Of course, Captain. And thank you." 

Kathryn smiled gently. "No thanks are necessary, Doctor. I count it an honor to be able to help my friends." She held his eyes solemnly for a moment before turning to leave. 

The Doctor beamed after her. He suddenly went into motion. Returning to his desk, he activated his monitor. "Computer, contact Mr. Reginald Barclay of the Pathfinder project…." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"That's right, Deanna, we'd like you to appear at the Doctor's trial. You could present your professional assessment, as a ship's counselor, of the Doctor." Reg smiled at her. 

Deanna looked both surprised and intrigued. "I'd be delighted, Reg. I'll need to let Captain Picard know and then I'll rearrange my schedule so I can meet with the Doctor. I'll also need the details of when I'm scheduled to appear before the court so I can be ready." 

Reg interrupted her timidly. "D-De-Deanna, Captain Picard should already know about this. Last week, just after Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant, the Doctor contacted me. He had already asked Captain Janeway to file the case and yesterday she told me that she had asked Captain Picard to take part in it. I suggested to Captain Janeway that I thought Data would also be a good person to bring in." 

Deanna's face lit up. "Reg, that's a wonderful idea. Have you talked to Data about this?" She smiled warmly, " Data would definitely be interested in the prospect of representing another artificial life-form at a sentience hearing." 

"Yes, I've spoken to Commander Data and he said it sounded most intriguing. He told me he would arrange for some leave time from the Enterprise. Captain Picard will be co-counsel but his schedule will constrain the amount of time he will have available before the trial. Captain Janeway, the Doctor, and I came up with a list of people that we would like to appear at the hearing and I am making the contacts. Captain Janeway's time is also limited now and the Doctor is going to be staying at Jupiter Station in Dr. Zimmerman's laboratory with Haley. He said it was the closest thing he has to a home outside of Voyager." 

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Have you told the Doctor about the codicil in Dr. Zimmerman's will regarding him?" 

Reg cleared his throat. "Well, I didn't want to get his hopes up. I haven' t even told Haley about Lewis changing his will to make her a ward of the Doctor if the Federation ever acknowledges him sentient. But if they do, then I will tell the Doctor about the research and the holographic art that Dr. Zimmerman left him as well. I mean, Lewis wasn't even sure if Voyager would ever return or if the Doctor would want to face this fight. I'm watching over everything until it's decided anyway." 

Deanna laughed. "Then it's in good hands. Anyway I'm sure the Doctor will be busy preparing for this and I can't imagine anyone better suited to help him than you, Reg. I' ve been meaning to speak with you. How are you feeling? Voyager's sudden return must have been quite a shock to you personally." 

Reg struggled to appear cheerful. "Yes, their return was a shock… to the whole Federation I think. I… I couldn't be happier." 

Deanna gave him an understanding look. "But your feelings are ambivalent. This has been the fulfillment of all you've struggled for. You' ve spent years imagining it, and now you are faced with the reality." 

Reg looked embarrassed. "I guess I hadn't thought it through, Deanna. I imagined that they would be welcomed with open arms. After all they' ve gone through and now to be faced with the hostility that's being shown to the Maquis and to Captain Janeway. Even the Doctor is having to fight to remain free." 

"It is natural to feel this way after you've anticipated an event for so long. Reality is always much more complicated than our fantasies. But, it will be all right, Reg. Although Starfleet's reaction may seem hostile, I think mostly it is the turmoil created by the unexpectedness of their arrival. I doubt the Federation will overlook the accomplishments of the Voyager crew. After all, they did the impossible. In seven years, they managed to bring home their ship and crew relatively intact after being flung over seventy thousand light years away from home." Deanna watched as his face began to look more hopeful. 

"You really think so?" 

"Absolutely. Now, I believe I should go and speak with Captain Picard about taking leave. You will send me details about the trial date when it's set?" 

He smiled. "Yes. Yes, of course." 

She smiled back and continued, "please, tell the Doctor that I look forward to seeing him again and to getting to know him better. I'll see you soon." 

He nodded. "I'll do that, and thank you. For everything." 

"Anytime, Reg." She grinned then added mischievously, "except maybe when I'm on vacation with Will." 

He blushed as she signed off. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Reginald Barclay glanced up from the display panel he and the Doctor had been working on for the last four weeks since Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant. Suddenly the doors of the holodeck opened. "Data!" he exclaimed. 

Data looked around, taking in the simulation of a Federation courtroom. He extended his hand to Reg. "It is good to see you again, Reg." 

Reg took his hand excitedly. "Data, I can't thank you enough for coming. Your help—and Captain Picard's too, of course—will be invaluable in this case." Reg continued to shake Data' s hand even as he talked. 

Data looked down at their hands, that were still in motion, before he met Reg's nervous stare. "Reg, you may stop greeting me now. I do not doubt the sincerity of your desire to have us take part in this suit. I am pleased to be asked to help. Captain Picard will be joining us this evening. This case has been most stimulating." 

Reg looked embarrassed as Data separated their hands. "Sorry, Data. It's just that this case means so much to me. You'll understand why when you meet all of them." 

Data looked perplexed. "Them? I thought the suit was brought on the behalf of the holographic Doctor of Voyager. Is Dr. Zimmerman's assistant Haley or other holograms in question as well?" 

Reg wrung his hands nervously. "No, Data. The suit is only on behalf of the Doctor. I was just speaking in a broad sense about the Voyager crew as a whole." 

Data led Reg over to a small conference table. "Why don't you tell me more about the Doctor and the Voyager crew? How did you come to be involved in this? I'm assuming it started with your work on the Pathfinder Project." 

Reg nodded his nervousness falling away as his face took on an abstracted look. "Well it started when I came on with the Pathfinder Project, but Voyager quickly came to mean more to me…" Reg went on to tell Data about all of his experiences involving Voyager and his attachment to the crew. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The Doctor finished entering the results of an experiment he was doing before he shut down his terminal. As a matter of course he checked the settings on his mobile emitter before he exited the laboratory on Jupiter Station. 

He nodded at people as he passed them, though it still seemed strange to be surrounded by unfamiliar faces. After seven years on Voyager he was just starting to adjust to their sudden arrival in the Alpha Quadrant.. Entering a conference room set aside for his case preparation, he paused in the entryway and met the eyes of the figures standing at Reg Barclay's side. "Commander Data and Captain Picard I presume." 

Captain Picard shook hands with the Doctor, eyeing him curiously. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor. My fiancée, Doctor Beverly Crusher, is very interested in meeting you. Your case is especially fascinating to her because her opinion of Emergency Medical Holograms has not been very positive." 

The Doctor grinned, "Maybe I can change that, Captain." 

Picard smiled and gave the Doctor a speculative look. "Perhaps you can at that, Doctor." 

The Doctor then turned to face Commander Data. 

The golden skinned android stepped forward and held out his hand to the Doctor. His yellow eyes were frankly examining him. " Curious. Your appearance is identical to other Mark One holograms. Did you not consider altering your appearance subroutines to express your distinct preferences? I have studied your program and the changes you have made are extensive but not in this area." 

The Doctor smiled. "An interesting question, Commander, and no doubt one pertinent to our case. My answer is two-fold. We are both artificial life-forms, Commander. Our creators designed us in their image just as biological life-forms are a reflection of their parentage. I keep this visage to honor my creator, Dr. Zimmerman. The second reason is this. If the court can recognize my individuality— my sentience, perhaps the Federation will then look at all the other Mark Ones. They will reevaluate the fate of holograms that have not been given the extraordinary opportunities to grow beyond their programming that I have been given. I am not just fighting for my rights, Mr. Data. The fate of artificial life-forms and their potential are part of this case as well." 

Data studied the Doctor's face seeing his fervent conviction. "Mr. Barclay was not incorrect. You are quite exceptional, Doctor." 

The Doctor smiled in relief and shook Data's hand. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Reg came scurrying into the courtroom, his arms full of PADDs and his briefcase clutched awkwardly in one hand. He jabbed people indiscriminately with his case as he pushed his way up to the front of the courtroom. "Pardon me. Excuse me." He mumbled without looking up from his PADD. 

The Doctor's face was relieved as he took the case from Reg's hand. "Good morning, Reg." 

"I'm not late am I, Doctor?" He looked around dazedly. "I had to talk to Deanna before I came. I needed to work through a little anxiety I was having." 

The Doctor shook his head, smiling fondly. "Not at all, Reg. Don't worry. Mr. Data and Captain Picard aren't even here yet. I just got here early to avoid the press." 

Barclay gulped visibly. "Yes, there were quite a few reporters out there weren't there? Luckily they didn't know me.." 

The Doctor grinned. "After today, Reg, they won't have that problem." 

Reg grimaced. "Oh, you think so? But surely, Doctor, my part in this is minor. Commander Data and Captain Picard are…" 

Doc smiled and put his hand on Reg's shoulder interrupting him. "No, Reg. Nothing you've done for me or for Voyager has been minor. It hasn't gone unnoticed or unappreciated either.." 

Reg blushed and looked flustered. "I… I was simply doing my job, Doctor." 

The Doctor shook his head. "No, Reg. As your friend, I don't believe it. I want to thank you. No matter what the court decides; I couldn't have had any better ally than you." 

Reg smiled shyly as the Doctor clasped his shoulders. "I can't tell you how much that means to me, Doctor. It's been a privilege to help." 

Data entered the courtroom with Captain Picard not far behind him and sat down. His yellow eyes calmly met the Doctor's gaze as he said, "it is almost time to begin." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Starfleet had arranged for the Hologram Sentience trial to be held on Jupiter Station to cut down on the publicity. In the months since Voyager had returned to the Alpha Quadrant, the heated debate over the fate of the former Maquis crewmembers and their captain had dominated the newscasts. 

In fact, the Doctor's sentience trial would have been kept quiet if Commander Data had not neatly sidestepped this issue. At the Doctor's request he had put the issue squarely into the center of public debate by using the Doctor' s infamous holonovel "Photon's Be Free" to draw attention to the author's plight. 

Though the Doctor's holonovel had been pulled from public access, rumor of it had spread, and pirated copies were still floating around much to the bemusement of Starfleet officials. The Voyager crew had even laughingly played up their exaggerated caricatures in the holonovel to entice more publicity for all of the concurrent trials. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Four and a half months later Doc was seated in his temporary quarters on Jupiter Station monitoring the morning news transmissions. 

_This is Federation News Service._

_A logo flashed across the screen and a polished news anchor began talking about the day' s top news. Since his hearing was ending today, Doc knew that it would probably garner extended coverage and he wasn't wrong. The leading story was about his trial._

_We are going live to our correspondent who has been covering this case._

_Thank you Jeff, this is Jake Sisko reporting from Jupiter Station where today we will hope to conclude the Hologram Sentience trial. At stake is the future status of the Starship Voyager's holographic physician, but this court's verdict could affect the entirety of Federation space. FNS has covered the trial, transmitting live coverage of the happenings in the courtroom, but we have prepared a summary of the highlights of the trial featuring the notables who appeared in this historic court case. Presiding over the case is Admiral Edward Jellico of Starfleet Command._

_Presenting Starfleet's case is Commander Michael Westmore. Appearing as expert witnesses were some of the Federation's top engineers and scientists, including Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge, the Chief Engineer of the Starship Enterprise._

_**Commander La Forge**: "Yes, the medical holograms are programmed to learn and to make decisions in performing their duties. The Mark One holograms were programmed with the knowledge of over two hundred medical reference texts and the knowledge of forty-seven individual medical officers. Referencing the information they are already programmed with they then make decisions, but the hologram has the ability to learn and to devise novel treatments as well."_

_Also taking part was Commander Roger Dennison who co-created the Mark Four medical holograms that are currently in service aboard Starfleet vessels as Emergency Medical Holograms._

_**Commander Dennison**: "Our aim was to create life-like beings who would instill a level of comfort in their patients. The Mark Ones were felt to be lacking in interpersonal skills but to be sound emergency medical practitioners. Voyager's hologram has however been running for such an extended period of time that there would have to be changes made to his programming to allow for expansion of his subroutines. In proposing that the Voyager EMH is sentient you face an additional problem when you consider the backup copy. Is it a sentient being as well? My final analysis is that no matter how lifelike a hologram is, it is still only a computer generated simulacrum."_

_The final witness for the defense was Lieutenant T'Bor of Vulcan. T'Bor is a recipient of the Daestrom award in holography and a specialist in artificial life-forms trained under the late Commander Bruce Maddox._

_**Lieutenant T'bor**: "It is a common failing among many species to incorrectly assign emotions to a piece of technology. Captains often refer to their ships as 'she' and to develop an attachment and a belief that their ship will go farther and do more for them and that the ship even returns their affection. The Emergency Medical Holograms were designed to be lifelike and it is not surprising that the crew of Voyager incorrectly assigns a persona to the device. But the fact remains that the EMH is a part of the Starship computer and when it is deactivated either for one minute or one century it is all the same. Holograms are not aware of their environment while disengaged and their personality is a result of programming not socialization. How could it ever be considered sentient if it's not aware of its environment?"_

_Appearing on behalf of the Holographic Doctor, were members of the senior staff of the Starship Voyager, the Counselor of the Starship Enterprise, the Delta Quadrant Ambassador Neelix, and Phillipa Louvois. Captain Louvois was Judge Advocate General (JAG) at the sentience trial involving the lead counsel, Commander Data also of the Enterprise. Captain Picard who is co-counsel at this trial represented Data at that sentience trial. Captain Louvois has since then gone on to become an expert in the area of sentience law._

_**Ambassador Neelix: **"My initial impression of the Doctor was that he was a machine, but Kes forced the whole crew to reevaluate that idea. She worked closely with the Doctor and she encouraged him to realize the possibility of his individuality. I felt she was instrumental in helping the Doctor to move beyond the machine and into consciousness."_

_**Seven of Nine**: "The Doctor tutored me in social interaction to aid in my integration into the Voyager crew. I believe this was because the Doctor had himself had to learn these skills during his evolution. He helped me realize my own individuality, and I value my relationship with him, though I do not reciprocate his feelings." And "yes, the Doctor informed me, in front of the whole senior staff that he had formed a romantic attachment to me… that he in fact loved me."_

_**Lieutenant Tom Paris**: "I've worked with the Doc from the beginning of our time in the Delta Quadrant as a field medic and I have seen the changes in him. I know I regard him as a distinct individual and also as my friend. His attachment to Kes, Denara Pel and finally to Seven were apparent to me. He had the same need to be intimate with someone as any other member of the crew. He even created a holographic family for himself." He laughs to himself before continuing, "B' Elanna made a few changes to his construct to give him a family that she considered was closer to reality than what he had created. Doc quickly realized how unprepared he was for that particular fantasy. He instead turned to singing and other fine arts as a creative outlet until he discovered holographic novel writing. His book 'Photons Be Free' was a real eye-opener for the whole crew but I think it revealed the Doc's need to be recognized as a life-form."_

_**Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres-Paris**: "Yes, I altered the Doctor's programming. I was trying to manipulate him into making changes to my daughter's genetic structure. I was desperate to remove her Klingon traits, but what I did was wrong. Luckily, the Doctor forgave me for manipulating him in that manner and accepted when Tom and I selected him to be godfather to our daughter, Miral. We chose him because of how involved and caring he was in helping me adjust to this pregnancy and because he is our friend. He took as much joy in anticipating our daughter's arrival as we did, and we know she will be in good hands with Doc if anything ever happens to us."_

_**Counselor Deanna Troi**: "I evaluated the Doctor in my capacity as a ship's counselor but this was not my first encounter with Voyager' s doctor. The Doctor was transmitted back to the Alpha Quadrant to save the life of his creator Dr. Lewis Zimmerman. At first Lewis was unbelievably hostile to the Doctor, and the Doctor' s reaction was that of a son seeking his fathers acceptance and not finding it. We were able to reconcile them by introducing a virus into the Doctor's program. Doctor Zimmerman saved the Doctor's program and they were able to finally connect. The Doctor did go on to save Lewis' life but it was not just his medical skills that did this, it was the Doctor himself. He made Lewis feel as if his efforts in designing the Mark One were not a failure. I do believe the Doctor is a new life-form, as Dr. Zimmerman did even if he is composed of light and forcefields. He has a personality capable of desire, hatred, disdain, irony and even love. Even though I cannot sense him as I sense organic life-forms, from my analysis of him I do not doubt his emotional capacity. I saw it in action in his relationship with Lewis Zimmerman."_

_**Phillipa Louvois**: "Yes, I presided over the case that granted Commander Data of the Enterprise status as a sentient being. I did not doubt that Data was a machine… an artificial life-form but I found the supporting evidence, that showed Data was self-aware, intelligent and capable of conscious moral choices credible. My research has since shown that the definition of sentience is malleable, enough to include a variety of artificial life-forms such as Data and the holographic Doctor. We include beings of pure energy in our definition already and it doesn' t seem an intellectual leap to recognize that the Doctor is a being of pure energy. If the Doctor's programming could be transferred to a positronic brain and body like Data' s we would not even be having this discussion. His sentience would be recognized from legal precedents."_

_**Commander Tuvok**: "I have reservations about applying the term of sentient to a hologram, but sentience itself is an ambiguous term. It raises the question of how we determine whether an object possesses the capability to be self-aware and to make independent choices. Because of this ambiguity, I believe that the definition of sentience can be manipulated to mean whatever a society finds useful at that time. Do we need holograms to serve as labor for our society? If so, I believe that citizens will unconsciously justify it to themselves by saying 'Well it may reason and communicate like us, but it isn't really alive.' In fact, there is no way to establish to any degree of certainty that any being is really sentient but we take it as a given because we have done so since the beginning of civilization."_

_**Commander Chakotay**: " The Doctor was on an away mission with Ensigns Kim and Jetal when they were attacked. The ensigns were both badly injured and they required immediate surgery. The Doctor was forced to choose between them though this meant one of the ensigns wouldn't make it. That choice tortured him and caused a conflict that he felt unable to resolve. He even asked to be deactivated. The captain ultimately chose to let the Doctor work out his own solution to this problem knowing that it was just part of being an individual. A machine would not have been troubled by the loss of one life. It would have weighed the usefulness of both individuals and made a cold-blooded choice. The Doctor felt the burden of guilt such choices carry, but he found a way to live with them as we all do."_

_**Captain Janeway**: "Yes, the court case over the Doctor's rights regarding his holonovel decided that the arbitrator did not feel comfortable extending the definition of a person to include him, but they did declare he would be labeled an artist with an artist' s rights. My response to the decision is that the Doctor is more than an artist, more than a physician, and much more than a hologram. I have watched the Doctor struggle to define himself. He has become one of the most humane and caring individuals it's been my pleasure to serve with. And I do mean individual... he is distinctive, and simply treating him as a piece of technology disparages his journey. The voyage through the Delta Quadrant shaped us all… it forged us into a family. I came to count the Doctor as an integral part of that family and I am here today because I have no doubt of his right to be declared sentient."_

_The support of the remainder of Voyager's senior staff and similar statements from the entire crew were submitted into evidence. The last witness to be called today by the defense will be the Doctor himself. Then the closing arguments will follow. Public opinion about the holographic doctor has been mixed but overall polling has the edge to the Doctor. Federation prosecutors unsympathetic to the Doctor's suit have attributed this to the public's desire to give support to the Voyager crew. Now back to you, Jeff._

_Thank you, Jake. And in other news the verdicts announced yesterday in the Voyager Maquis trials have…"_

The Doctor switched off his viewscreen and stood as the door chime sounded. Reg Barclay stepped hesitantly into the room. His face was smiling but his hands dry-washed themselves in his anxiety. "Ready to go, Doctor?" 

The Doctor smiled and squared his shoulders. "Let's go, Reg." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The Doctor met the eyes of the Starfleet attorney. Commander Mike Westmore smiled congenially as he faced the holo-doctor. "Good morning, Doctor. I have only a few questions for you. If you would indulge me, could you tell me what happens to your program when you hear the words 'Computer deactivate the EMH'?" 

The Doctor frowned. "In my early days on Voyager I had to ask crewmen to shut down my program when they left sickbay. I was greatly annoyed at being left idle when my programming clearly indicated I was to be used for emergency use only. But because of the death of Voyager's medical officer my role had to be expanded. B' Elanna Torres, our Chief Engineer altered my program so that I could initiate and shut down my program, as I deemed fit. She gave me freedom and I used it to increase my responsibilities, to pursue hobbies, and to learn." 

Commander Westmore held up his hand interrupting the Doctor. "What I want to know, Doctor, is what happens when your program is shut down." 

The Doctor frowned, "I am deactivated. My program is held in the computer or in my mobile emitter until it is activated again." 

"So you cease to exist and you are unaware of your surroundings when you are inactive?" 

"Yes. I am unaware of my surroundings, but no, I do not cease to exist. My holographic body ceases to exist but my persona is intact." The Doctor struggled with his irritation. 

Commander Westmore smiled. "I see the distinction you are trying to make. Can you be killed?" 

"Certainly I can be destroyed, Commander." The Doctor's face was indignant. "My program can be decompiled. Anything that can be created can be destroyed or 'killed' if you will. It's an elementary principle in all science." 

"Doctor, can you tell me of any sentient creatures that are unaware of their environment when they are inactive?" 

The Doctor paused thoughtfully. "Of course, Commander. If you were in a coma, you would be unaware of your surroundings though you would still be counted sentient." 

Commander Westmore picked up a tricorder from the defense tabletop, adjusting it. "Ah, yes. Very clever, Doctor. So your program exists even when the holographic projection of that program is shut down because you become a subset of the ship's computers. What about Commander Dennison's question about the status of the backup of your program, Doctor? Records show that Voyager lost a backup copy of your program during conflict with a Delta Quadrant species. Should your backup copy, if it could be recovered, be granted sentient status as well?" 

"Commander, comparing me to the backup copy of my program is like comparing me to an identical twin. What would happen if one twin was left safely at home, never exposed to anything beyond their first day of life, but the second twin went out into the world and learned new skills, new interests. The second twin would be vastly more complex than the embryonic twin, though they would be genetically identical. That is the relationship between my backup copy and me. I continue to change with each new experience I face." 

Commander Westmore cleared his throat noisily, interrupting the Doctor. "I'll take that as a yes, then. So the backup copy could be sentient as well. Well, Doctor. What about all of the other Mark Ones? Are they sentient as well? How about all holograms? Would you have the court protect the rights of holograms on all the holodecks in all the holoprograms throughout the Federation?" His voice ridiculed the idea. 

The Doctor looked sad and he shook his head regretfully. "No, Commander. I don't expect the Federation to look beyond their preconceived notions regarding holograms. I don't expect any sentient being," his voice dripped sarcasm, "to regard the Mark Ones or any other complex holo life-form, as capable of more than their prejudice allows. Isn't that what all of this boils down to, Commander? Bigotry?" 

Mike Westmore's face looked faintly embarrassed. This time when he cleared his throat, it was from discomfort not in an attempt to be rude. "Very well, Doctor. Let' s follow up on your status when you are deactivated. Your program is contained in the ships mainframe, is it not?" 

"Yes, when I'm deactivated you could say the computer is my quarters, Commander. I do reside within the ships mainframe." Doc gave the commander a frosty look. " But since I came to Jupiter station, my program has resided in my mobile emitter." 

The commander's face lit up in a smile. "Your mobile emitter. Yes, it is an interesting piece of technology. It was from the 29th century, wasn' t it? But the same parameters hold there as in the computer. You can be activated and deactivated at the will of a living being… the same living beings that created your program?" 

The Doctor smiled smugly. "Yes, Commander my mobile emitter was brought back from the 29th century. But no, my mobile emitter has been modified so that only Captain Janeway, Lieutenant B' Elanna Torres, or I can deactivate my program. I asked that this be done so that I could have sovereignty over my existence. I wanted control over my fate and that is also the reason that I asked that this issue be brought to trial." 

The commander's eyebrows rose in astonishment, "But your programming can still be altered, can it not? Didn' t the Captain of the Federation starship Equinox delete your ethical sub-routines? You caused serious harm to a member of your crew then, didn't you? You became a cold-blooded killer at the touch of a button." 

The Doctor's face was grim and his voice was angry. " Yes, I did cause harm because of that deletion, and that led me to this decision. I have made my program impregnable as any other self-aware creature would. Tell me, Commander, if you had an Achilles' heel, would you advertise it? No you would act as I have. I am more than some phantom created by forcefields and light. Can a forcefield feel love? Can light feel pain? No, but I can. Not because it was in my programming, but because I have learned to." 

Westmore looked incredulous at the Doctor's response. "I see, and how are you different from any other computer program, Doctor?" He held up his tricorder scanning the Doctor. "Hmm…forcefields and photons. That is all that you are isn't it, Doctor?" 

"Commander Westmore, the human brain is comparable to a computer. Constant activity, impulses, regulating activities, and processes. Human beings have even successfully transferred their consciousness into computers, just as I am transferred. My program is described through algorithms and heuristic subroutines. It is a description of my thought processes, my regulating activities, impulses. In addition it contains descriptors for my physical parameters. I am a complex organism just as you are, Commander. I just happen to be contained within a physical form composed of forcefields and photons." 

"Doctor, Captain Phillipa Louvois compared you to energy beings which are acknowledged sentient. But those energy beings were not created from the imagination of corporeal beings. They are not artificial constructs made in the form of another species." Commander Westmore approached the Doctor, his face stern. 

"Commander, have you ever used a transporter?" The Doctor's face was haughty. 

Mike Westmore paused, "Yes, Doctor. Of course I have used a transporter. Very few Federation citizens have not." 

"So Commander, you were broken down by a computer, stored in a buffer for a fraction of a moment. In effect, you became a creature of energy. Your persona, your individuality, what makes you unique in this universe…it was reduced to a pattern. When you were rematerialized did you count yourself any less of a person? Were you reduced by the experience of being part of a piece of technology for that time? Yes, I am an artificial construct. Dr. Lewis Zimmerman created me, here on Jupiter Station. My program, the definition of who I am is stored in a computer. My physical form is made up of photons and forcefields. But I am an individual. I have desires. I have dreams. I have a purpose. You do not doubt my intelligence. Yet, you still question my self-awareness though a qualified Starfleet counselor has examined me. I can only guess that you doubt if I possess a soul. But that cannot be determined by a court of law, Commander. That can only be determined by my actions over the course of my life." 

Commander Westmore stared at the Doctor before glancing over at Admiral Jellico. "No more questions at this time, Admiral." 

Admiral Jellico nodded curtly and turned to Captain Picard and Commander Data. "Your witness, Commander. If you will be needing much time, we can adjourn until tomorrow." 

Commander Data rose. "Thank you, Admiral. We only have one question for the Doctor." 

Jellico nodded and said, "Very well, then. Continue." 

Data turned to the Doctor. "In the course of your entire voyage in the Delta Quadrant you have created a life for yourself, struggled to define your existence, but you have never given yourself a name. Can you explain why?" 

The Doctor looked at Data seriously. " In the beginning of our journey I had wanted to pick the name of someone I admired, but each time I thought of a choice I would change my mind again. It became something of a joke, and I have no doubt that the betting pool on Voyager made book on my choice. Somewhere along our journey the crew became more important to me than defining my own identity with a name. These people became my family. I made a vow to myself that I would honor them somehow when I came to select a name. So I have finally chosen… here at the end of our adventure together. If his family will allow it, I'd like to choose the name of Joseph Carey Zimmerman. To honor the last Voyager to fall in the line of duty, and to honor my creator Dr. Zimmerman." 

Data looked at Admiral Jellico and then at the Doctor. "That will be all Dr. Zimmerman and thank you." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Commander Westmore and Captain Picard gave closing arguments. Both were counted to be eloquent and stirring…but the decision was in the hands of Admiral Edward Jellico alone. The admiral called for a recess with the court to be reconvened at 1900 hours of the same day. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

_This is Federation News Service. _The logo flashed before the camera faded to show Jake Sisko's smiling face. 

_Hello this is Jake Sisko reporting for FNS direct from Jupiter Station. The court is reconvening to conclude the case deciding the sentience of Voyager's Holographic Doctor. We are going to switch to live coverage of the courtroom to hear the verdict._

_Admiral Jellico's gravelly voice filled the courtroom. " I have considered the case presented by both sides and by the legal precedent cited by Commander Data about Commander Data. I will admit that when I first reviewed this case I was skeptical about the idea of a computer generated hologram claiming sentience, but over the years I have encountered equally unlikely scenarios. The definition of sentience incorporates many vague terms but my preconceived conditions are intelligence, self-awareness and the capability to make independent choices. Sentience is a byproduct of the complexity of self-evolution. I have listened to the crew of Voyager and to the 'experts' and I can't say that I see much conflict. There is no doubt that the Doctor started life as an intricate computer program that mimicked human life. Forced by the exigencies of being stranded in the Delta Quadrant with no replacement medical practitioner, the EMH of necessity evolved into something more. I cannot tell you when sentience begins, but I recognize in this being the individuality and self-determination of an independent mind. Whether his body is made up of photons and forcefields, titanium and positronic relays, or flesh and bones his status would be the same. The court finds that the Doctor, Joseph Carey Zimmerman of the Starship Voyager is a sentient being who is granted full rights of citizenship in the Federation." Admiral Jellico banged his gavel twice. "Court adjourned."_

Dr. Joe Zimmerman bounded to his feet to shake hands and hug all his well-wishers. First and foremost among them was Reginald Barclay. "We did it, Reg!" 

Captain Janeway elbowed her way through the crush of reporters to smile and hug the Doctor. "Congratulations Doctor, some of the crew of Voyager and of the Enterprise are waiting to celebrate with you." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn held up her glass of champagne, before glancing around at all of the familiar faces gathered here to celebrate the end of the trial. "To Doctor Joseph Carey Zimmerman the newest citizen in the Federation." She turned to the Doctor gently touching her glass to his before taking a sip. Kathryn gave him an amused look and said, "who would have guessed at your choice for a name." She grinned to herself at the irony of the Doctor choosing the same first name in this timeline as the Doctor in Admiral Janeway's timeline. Even if he did it for completely different reasons. 

The newly dubbed Dr. Joe Zimmerman grinned, "I can imagine what Tom' s response will be, but I hope it is a fitting tribute to all of our fallen crewmen. Do you think Sarah Carey will find it acceptable?" 

Kathryn looked distinctly uncomfortable at his question. "I'm afraid I don't…" 

Samantha Wildman's voice broke in. "Excuse me, Captain. I couldn't help but overhear the Doctor's question." 

Joe smiled widely at Samantha. "Ms. Wildman, I'm glad you were able to be here today. I'm flattered that so many of the crewmembers of Voyager were able to come and support me. Do you have an answer to my question? Will Mrs. Carey find my choice of name acceptable?" 

Sam shook her head regretfully. "Doctor, I'm not sure Sarah Carey would be receptive to anything about Voyager right now. She's very bitter about Joe's death, but I think it's a lovely idea. I think Sarah may come to appreciate your gesture, given time to heal and a tactful approach to the subject." 

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully for a moment before he squared his shoulders decisively. "Thank you Ms. Wildman. Captain," he said looking down into her troubled eyes. "If you don't mind, I' d like to approach Mrs. Carey personally about the subject of my name choice." 

Kathryn nodded and gave him a lopsided smile. "Of course, Doctor. I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to contact Sarah yet, but I will remedy that soon. I' d like to talk to her about Joe and his extraordinary service aboard Voyager. He was a good man." 

The Doctor noticed the brooding regretful look on her face and scanned the room for a distraction. He knew that the captain was thinking of all the deaths among her crew. When the Doctor spotted Reginald Barclay standing with Deanna Troi and Commander William Riker across the room, a sudden idea came to him. "Excuse me, Captain, but I have a request to make." 

Kathryn listened to his softly spoken words and a luminous smile lit up her face. Deanna Troi felt the wash of Captain Janeway's emotions across the room and glanced over. The Doctor looked pleased and full of anticipation. The captain nodded and moved over to a computer terminal. Though her face resumed the normally dignified command face of a Starship captain, Deanna could feel her joy simmering underneath. This was a relief compared to the carefully controlled somberness the captain had been concealing before. 

Will Riker noticed Deanna's attention was elsewhere as Data walked over to speak to Reg. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, "What is it, Deanna? I recognize that look of satisfaction, though I don't usually see it outside of our quarters." His grin was impudent. 

Deanna gave him a look of tolerant scorn. "Really, Commander? I'll keep that in mind the next time we're alone." 

Riker grinned wider, "You can count on it, Deanna. But seriously, what's got you so distracted?" 

Her face looked mysterious. "Wait and see, Will. I love a good surprise as much as you do." 

Captain Janeway and Dr. Joe Zimmerman crossed the room to join their group. Kathryn caught the attention of an ensign who supplied everyone with fresh glasses of champagne. 

"I'd like your attention please." Captain Kathryn Janeway's voice cut across the hum of conversation, silencing it. "Years ago the Pathfinder Project allowed Voyager to have the first contact with Starfleet Command, and I proposed a toast when we celebrated the event. Now here we are… finally home together. New friends, family, and longtime comrades. I ask you to raise your glasses once again. To one of the finest crews I' ve ever commanded, to our faithful ship that brought us through our adventure, and to the man I once made an honorary crewmember. Today I made it official. I give you the newest addition—and the last—to the Starship Voyager' s crew compliment. Mr. Reginald Barclay." 

Reg took a step backwards, he was so overwhelmed. It had been his fantasy to have a place among the people he had counted as his friends long before they even knew his name. Deanna Troi was radiant as she gently took his hand. "Don't worry, Reg. This is not a holodeck fantasy. This is real life and you've earned it." 

The Doctor stepped forward. "I'd like to be the first to congratulate you and to welcome you to our crew, Reg." Joe's face was beaming with pleasure. " Even though I know you are leaving to continue your work with the Engineering Department at Starfleet Headquarters, we wanted you to know how much the whole crew appreciated your efforts on our behalf. I couldn' t have a better friend than you, Reg. Thank you." 

Reg could only smile, his eyes full of tears, as the room raised their glasses in his honor.   
  
  
[][1]   
  


   [1]: mailto:finalefixit@yahoogroups.com



	7. Only Human by Kayla

Only Human Disclaimer: The characters belong to Paramount but the story is mine. I don't mean any harm, I just want to right a few wrongs. I promise to return the characters in better shape than when I got them.   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Returning to Earth isn't the end of the journey for Seven of Nine. With the help of friends, both old and new, she finds her way home and discovers that sometimes even the Borg are only human.   
Author's Note: Thank you to Tracy, my special friend from the world of 'Imzadi', for helping this Voyager writer to find the confidence to venture away from home into the realm of TNG, and for reading the result to check I did ok. Thank you for your help, but most of all thank you for being a friend. 

Only Human   
_Copyright September 2001 by Kayla_

  


Seven of Nine paused inside the door of the laboratory and looked around. A slight smile of satisfaction appeared on her lips as she surveyed the familiar consoles and screens. At last she was somewhere where she could put her abilities to work. Locating a pair of legs protruding from beneath a console she strode across the room and came to a halt beside them. 

"Lieutenant Barclay, we are to work together I believe." 

A thud shook the console and was followed by a muffled exclamation. Lt. Barclay emerged from beneath the console, rubbing his forehead. 

"S-seven of Nine! I wasn't expecting you so soon. I was told you would be here tomorrow." 

"You may call me Seven, I am accustomed to that title. I have found that people find it cumbersome to use my full designation." 

Barclay nodded in mute acceptance. 

Seven smiled slightly as she studied the nervous man before her. 

"I apologise for startling you, Lieutenant. I am aware that I was not due to start work until tomorrow, but I had nothing else to occupy my time, to delay would have been inefficient." 

"O-of course. I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to imply that you were unwelcome. I've been looking forward to working with you, I was just surprised to see you. I had assumed that you would be visiting family and friends or getting to know San Francisco." 

"I prefer to stay within Starfleet Headquarters. I am uncomfortable with the attention I receive when people notice my implants. It is easier for me to stay here where my presence is more familiar. I have no friends outside Voyager's crew and therefore have no reason to leave." 

Barclay looked at her with concern. 

"But people from Voyager won't be staying here indefinitely, many of them have already returned to their homes, surely you'll be lonely if you don't visit them sometimes?" 

"I am accustomed to my own company, and there are few among Voyager's crew who would consider inviting me to their home." 

"I-I'm sorry I don't mean to pry, it's just that I thought, I mean I'd heard, I..." Barclay stuttered to a halt. 

"You had heard what, Lieutenant?" 

"Well someone mentioned that you had become close to Commander Chakotay. I thought that maybe you would be spending some time with him." 

"We had attempted to form a personal relationship towards the end of our time on Voyager, but once we arrived here it became obvious that we had little in common. We made a mutual decision to end our relationship and I have not seen him since that time." 

"I'm sorry." 

"There is no reason for you to feel remorse, Lieutenant. You were not responsible for the end of the relationship." 

"No, no, of course not. I meant, it must have been upsetting for you." 

"I felt no distress. Such a feeling would be inappropriate when following the logical course of action." 

"Unfortunately feelings can often be inappropriate," Barclay stated, ruefully. 

"So I have been told, though I fail to understand why that should be so. It seems that I have much to learn about human emotion. Perhaps you will assist me." 

"I don't know if I'd be much help. Oh, but I know someone who would!" Barclay's face suddenly lit up with eager anticipation. "Have you met Counselor Deanna Troi?" 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Seven, may I introduce Counselor Deanna Troi? Deanna, this is Seven of Nine." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Seven. Reg often talks about you." 

"As he does about you, Counselor. I am grateful that you were able to make time to meet us today." 

"You make it sound like an official appointment, Seven! I always enjoy meeting friends for lunch. Especially," she grinned, "when lunch includes chocolate." 

"Lieutenant Barclay has mentioned your fondness for chocolate. I believe he selected this restaurant due to the number of desserts on the menu that include that ingredient." 

"Reg knows me too well," Deanna smiled at the blushing engineer. "But I hope there's something on the menu that you'll enjoy too." 

"Enjoyment is irrelevant, I select my meals for their nutritional value." 

"The one need not preclude the other, Seven." 

"That has not been my experience. The database lists leola root as an excellent source of fourteen nutrients and yet, no matter how Neelix prepared it, I never found its consumption to be a pleasurable experience." 

"Did you ever consider the possibility that leola root just tastes bad?" Deanna fought to suppress a smile. 

"I had reached that conclusion," Seven confirmed. 

"Then why continue to eat it?" 

"It is an efficient method of obtaining the required nutrients. It would have been foolish to waste replicator energy on producing additional foodstuffs." 

"But there's no need to worry about that now, Seven. You should experiment, find out what you enjoy." 

"Do you have any suggestions, Counselor?" 

Deanna scanned the menu. 

"How about Mushroom Soup followed by Seafood Risotto? With luck you'll still have room for a chocolate sundae afterwards." 

"Very well. If you believe that to be an enjoyable selection I will follow your suggestions. Indeed Commander Chakotay expressed a fondness for mushroom soup during our time on Voyager." 

"You and the commander became quite close I believe?" Deanna queried. 

"We attempted to begin a relationship but it was not successful. I am unsure why that was the case since we appeared, to me, to be well matched." 

"What makes you think that you were well matched?" 

"We worked together successfully, we have a similar level of intelligence, we are both physically attractive." 

"It takes more than that for a relationship to work. In fact, some of the most successful relationships occur between couples who appear to be totally mismatched. Did you ever hear the expression 'opposites attract'?" 

"Yes, but I have never understood it. How can people who are not alike find each other attractive?" 

"I don't think anyone has been able to explain what makes one person attractive to another. Certainly there's more to it than looks or intelligence." 

"Then how does one determine a suitable candidate with whom to attempt a relationship?" 

"You have to be guided by your feelings. Sometimes the attraction is instantaneous. Sometimes a couple grows together over time. But when you find the right person you'll know." 

"Then why do couples take so long to form a permanent partnership? I have observed that couples who are obviously attracted to each other often attempt to hide their feelings from others, from each other and sometimes from themselves. Such behaviour is illogical if they are aware that they have, as you say, found the right person." 

Deanna gave a wry smile. 

"Little about love is logical, Seven." 

Reg had been sitting quietly listening to the conversation of the two women, but now his curiosity got the better of him. 

"Did you have a particular couple in mind?" 

"There were several such couples on Voyager," Seven stated. 

Deanna and Reg stared at her expectantly but no further information was forthcoming. Finally, unable to contain herself, Deanna broke the silence. 

"Seven, if you want to learn about being human then your first lesson is the art of gossip. So spill it, who was attracted to who?" 

"Lieutenants Paris and Torres shared a mutual attraction for some time before they made their relationship public and eventually married." 

"That's not gossip, Seven. Everyone knows about their relationship." Deanna was obviously disappointed. "Tell us something we don't know." 

Seven paused to consider for a moment before deciding to enter into the spirit of the conversation. 

"Commander Chakotay often behaved in a manner that indicated that he was attracted to the captain, and although she was more discreet, I believe that Captain Janeway had similar feelings for the commander." 

"And yet Commander Chakotay began a relationship with you?" Reg was intrigued by this information about the officers who had become his heroes. 

"I am unsure why he chose to pursue that course of action, but Captain Janeway gave him no indication that he should act on his feelings for her, and I am told that he had demonstrated on several previous occasions that he finds women with my colouring attractive." 

"Do you think the captain knew how he felt about her?" asked Reg. 

"I do not see how she could fail to notice. It was obvious to everyone else," Seven answered before turning to the counselor. "I am curious, if she was aware of his feelings and returned them, why did Captain Janeway not begin a relationship with Commander Chakotay?" 

"Only she can answer that, Seven. Perhaps you should ask her," Deanna joked. 

Seven, as usual, failed to catch the humour in her remark and left Reg and Deanna speechless with her next remark 

"I have arranged to meet with Captain Janeway next month. She is anxious to know how I am adapting to life away from Voyager. I will ask her then." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Seven, you're looking well. Come in." Kathryn Janeway looked up as Seven appeared at the door of her office. 

"Thank you, Captain. You are also looking well. I assume that your homecoming has been a pleasurable experience." 

"I certainly wouldn't describe it all as pleasurable, but things seem to be looking up lately." Kathryn smiled inwardly as she considered recent events. "How have things been with you? Are you enjoying being on Earth?" 

"It has been unsettling. I receive more attention from strangers than I desire. I understood that it was considered rude to stare, but that view is not supported by the actions of many of the people I encounter." 

"They don't mean to be rude, Seven, but you are a unique individual. It's not every day that they get to see an ex-Borg, you have to expect some interest." 

"I understand that it is inevitable, but it is unpleasant never the less." 

"I imagine so. But aside from that how are things going? Do you enjoy your work?" 

"It is valuable work. Starfleet's astrometrics systems will benefit greatly from the addition of Borg enhancements." 

"I'm sure you're doing a wonderful job." Kathryn was used to Seven's lack of modesty and was unfazed by her high opinion of the merits of her work. 

"I would be unable to perform satisfactorily without the assistance of Lieutenant Barclay. Federation technology has improved since Voyager was developed and his knowledge of current systems has been invaluable to the efficiency of our project." 

"Reg Barclay is a fine engineer," Janeway agreed. "I look forward to hearing more about your work. I'll need full reports if I'm to include the details of your design changes in my briefings to the academy instructors." 

"Reg mentioned to me that you will be overseeing the work at Utopia Planitia. Congratulations, Captain, I understand that the position carries a promotion to Admiral." 

"Yes, it does, thank you, Seven. It will be somewhat different from commanding a starship, I'm looking forward to the challenge." 

"When will you be taking up the position?" 

"Well, I've already begun reviewing some reports and meeting with the engineering teams but officially I don't start until the promotion takes effect on the first of next month. I'm planning to make my first visit to the shipyards in three weeks time." 

Janeway rose from her seat and moved to the replicator. She ordered her customary mug of coffee then turned back to her companion. "Can I get you something, Seven?" 

"Thank you. A strawberry milkshake would be most welcome at this time." 

The captain stared at her in wide-mouthed astonishment. 

"A strawberry milkshake?" 

"I was advised to find nutritious foods that I also find pleasant. I have found that I enjoy the taste of strawberry milkshake," Seven explained. 

"Sounds like excellent advice. The Doctor?" 

"No, I have not seen him since the enquiry into his sentience." Seven looked vaguely uncomfortable for a moment. "The advice came from Counselor Deanna Troi." 

"Ah," Kathryn smiled. "An excellent source of advice. Her love of chocolate is legendary within Starfleet." 

"As is your own fondness for coffee." Her tone was bland but a slight smile revealed the humorous intent. 

Kathryn laughed as she handed Seven her drink and settled back into her seat. 

"Touché. I guess I can't deny it when the evidence is against me." She indicated towards the mug in her hand. "Did Deanna have any other advice for you?" 

"She advised me to ask you why you had not begun a relationship with Commander Chakotay while we were still aboard Voyager." Seven wasted no time in getting to the point. 

It wasn't the first time that Kathryn had been rendered speechless by a statement from Seven, but on this occasion her recovery took a little longer than normal. She took a gulp of coffee as she considered the situation, finally she attempted to avoid the issue. 

"I really don't think that Counselor Troi has any interest in such matters, Seven. You must have misunderstood." 

"I understood perfectly, Captain. That is precisely what she advised me to do." 

Seven proceeded to outline her conversation with the counselor for the captain's benefit. She ended her narrative by reiterating her question. 

"Since my conversation with Counselor Troi I have learned that you have now begun a relationship with the commander. Since the crew's observations regarding your feelings for each other appear to have been correct, I am curious to know why you did not begin such a relationship in the Delta Quadrant." 

Although Kathryn immediately realised that Deanna had not been serious in her advice to Seven she decided that the younger woman was genuine in her desire to understand more about the nature of human relationships. That being the case some sort of answer to her question was clearly necessary, but first she had some concerns of her own to address. 

"I hope you know that I would never have stood in the way of your relationship with Chakotay, Seven. Although it was upsetting to me personally to see him with you, I truly hoped that it would work out for you, if that was what you both wanted. It was only after I knew that your relationship had ended that Chakotay and I became.." she hesitated for a moment as she searched for the right word. 

"Intimate?" suggested Seven. 

"Actually I was going to say 'closer' but I guess 'intimate' is correct," Kathryn agreed. 

"I do not blame you for the failure of my relationship with the commander. Had you and Commander Chakotay become 'closer' while we were on Voyager the possibility of such a relationship would not have been considered by either of us." 

"I suppose so." Kathryn sighed as she attempted to formulate an explanation. "I'm not sure that I fully understand my reasons myself, Seven. Starfleet regulations had a lot to do with it, I was reluctant to begin a relationship with an officer under my command, but that wasn't the whole reason. For a while there was Mark, the man I was engaged to marry. I could never have become involved with another man while I thought that Mark was waiting for me, and once I heard that he had moved on ...Well, I guess I was afraid." 

"Afraid of what? You had no reason to fear Commander Chakotay." 

"No, not afraid of him, afraid of many things: afraid of what the crew would think; afraid of Starfleet's reaction once we got home; afraid that my command would suffer. But most of all I think I was afraid that I would lose him." 

"I do not understand. Why would you lose the commander if you acted on your feelings for him?" 

"In some way or another I have lost every man I've loved. My first fiancé was killed in a shuttle accident along with my father. I lost Mark when we became stranded in the Delta Quadrant. And then there was Jaffen, the man I lived with on Quarra." She paused and glanced at Seven, seeking confirmation that the reference was understood. 

Seven nodded her remembrance and Kathryn continued. 

"I don't think I loved Jaffen but I certainly cared for him a great deal and if we hadn't returned to Voyager and had our memories restored who knows what might have happened. So, in a way, I lost him too. Perhaps I was afraid to allow myself to love Chakotay because, if I gave in to my feelings for him, I would lose him too." 

"That is irrational. Events such as those you have mentioned are not influenced by your feelings for the individuals involved and, even if they were, it did not make sense to avoid a relationship with Commander Chakotay on that basis. The logical course of action would be to commence a relationship, and have him for a short time, rather than to deny your feelings and never have him at all." 

"Perhaps so," Kathryn admitted, "but little about love is logical." 

Seven looked startled. 

"That is what Counselor Troi said." 

"Then she is a wise woman," Janeway smiled. 

"She also told me that when I found the right person to begin a relationship with I would know, but that does not appear to be the case." 

"What makes you say that?" 

"You have told me that you have been engaged to marry twice in the past and yet on each occasion you have subsequently commenced a relationship with someone else. Did you agree to marry men who you did not feel were the right person? Or did you believe that they were right at the time and only later find that they were not? And if that is true then how can you be sure that the commander is the right man for you now?" 

Kathryn flinched under the barrage of questions. This was not the conversation she had envisioned when she arranged Seven's visit. She was unaccustomed to discussing her private life, so to suddenly find herself doing so, and with Seven of all people, was somewhat disconcerting. 

"I don't regret my relationships with Justin and Mark. I was young when I met Justin, he was older than I was, a respected Starfleet officer. Our relationship was passionate and exciting; it made me feel alive in a way that I'd never experienced before. I was devastated when he died, but looking back I think that, although I missed him badly, a large part of my grief was for my father and the fact that I blamed myself for not being able to save them." 

"You were in the shuttle with them?" 

Kathryn nodded. 

"I was injured in the crash but I was thrown clear of the ship when it crashed. My father and Justin were trapped in the remains of the hull when it sank under an icecap. I tried to transport them out but failed." 

"If you made every attempt to save them then you have nothing to reproach yourself for." 

"I realise that now, but it wasn't so easy at the time. Mark was the one who helped me through it. We had been in school together and I'd known him since I was a small child. His presence was familiar and comforting, and we grew closer over time. It was a very different relationship to the one I'd had with Justin, comfortable rather than passionate. I don't know if I'd have been happy married to either of them, but I believed I would at the time." 

"Do you feel that way about Commander Chakotay?" 

"What I feel for Chakotay goes far deeper than anything I felt for Justin or Mark. He's the other half of my soul. Counselor Troi is right in saying that when you find the right man you know. The hard part is recognising when someone is not the right one. Sometimes you don't know what you're searching for until you find it." 

Seven sipped her drink and contemplated what she had heard. Kathryn watched her in silence for a moment before her curiosity got the better of her. 

"Seven, may I ask you something? When you wanted to start a relationship, why did you choose Chakotay? I don't mean to pry but I have to confess to being curious. It all seemed so sudden, one day you were barely friendly the next you were dating. Why him?" 

"It was because I believed you were attracted to him." 

"Excuse me?" Kathryn was sure she must have misheard. 

"In the time that I have known you, I have observed that you are a good judge of character. I believed that if you found Commander Chakotay attractive then he must be a good choice of mate. I therefore selected the commander from the available crewmembers when I began to explore my sexuality. I now realise that my reasoning was flawed. Counselor Troi has been most helpful, as have you, Captain. Thank you." 

"You're welcome, Seven. I'm glad we could help." Kathryn was still surprised by the turn the conversation had taken, but she was genuinely glad to be able to help her former crewmember. Her eyes became alight with mischief as she plotted revenge on Deanna for placing her in this situation. "If you want to learn more perhaps you could ask Counselor Troi why it took her thirteen years to begin a relationship with Commander Riker, when even she would admit that they fell in love the first time they met." 

"She did not mention that to me. I will ask her should we meet again." 

Kathryn was about to reply when the door chime sounded. Looking up she saw her assistant hovering in the doorway. 

"Come in, Ensign." 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Captain, but Admiral Muir wants to see you in his office." 

"Thank you, Ensign. Tell him I'm on my way." 

Ensign Gerrard nodded and left the room. Kathryn turned back to her companion. 

"I'm sorry Seven, I have to go. Perhaps we can do this again sometime?" 

"I would like that, I have found our conversation most interesting." 

Seven stood and moved towards the door. 

"Before you go, Seven...." 

Seven stopped and turned back to face Janeway who was smiling and holding out a tissue. 

"You might want to wipe your lip, you have a moustache." 

"I do not understand." Seven looked puzzled. 

"The milkshake, you have milk on your upper lip." 

Seven took the tissue and left the room rubbing at her face. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Seven, wait up!" 

Seven turned at the sound of her name to see Reg Barclay hurrying down the corridor towards her. 

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant? I thought you had taken the day off." 

"I did, I mean I have. I just wondered if you'd like to join me. I'm meeting Deanna and I'm sure she'd like to see you again." 

"It would be pleasant but I have work to attend to." 

"Work can wait, Seven. You should take some time for yourself, you haven't had a day off in three months; it's not normal to work that hard, most people take at least one day off each week. You'll make yourself ill if you don't rest." 

"I do not require rest, it is sufficient that I regenerate regularly. Besides I took time off to visit Admiral Janeway." 

"That was three weeks ago, you took half a day and you didn't leave the building!" Three months spent working closely with Seven had cured Reg of his initial shyness. "Come on, Seven, you'll enjoy it. We're going to have a picnic on the beach." 

"I had understood that such activities were reserved for the summer months. I do not believe that January is a suitable time, it will be cold and damp." Seven frowned in distaste at the thought. 

"It would be if we were staying here but we're not, we're going to transport down to San Juan. Sun, sea, fresh air, it'll be wonderful. Say you'll come, Seven, you won't regret it." 

"Very well, if you wish me to come I will do so, but first I must return this padd to the laboratory." 

"That's great. Grab a swimsuit and meet us at the transporter hub in 30 minutes." Barclay beamed at her before hurrying away leaving Seven with a perplexed frown on her face and an unspoken question on her lips. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Half an hour later Seven arrived at the transporter hub to find her companions waiting. 

"Seven! I'm so glad you could join us," Deanna greeted her. "This is Commander Will Riker, Will this is Seven of Nine." 

Will reached out to shake her hand. 

"Delighted to meet you, Miss Nine." 

"I do not believe that is an appropriate designation, Commander. You may call me Seven or, if you are uncomfortable with that name, perhaps Miss Hansen would be more suitable." 

"You're using your human name now, Seven?" Deanna was surprised. 

"I have considered doing so, but I am undecided. While I am not comfortable with that name, I have observed that others find the use of my Borg designation unsettling. There is much hatred for the Borg here. My name is a reminder to them of what I once was." 

"If you prefer Seven, then that's what I'll call you," Will decided, "it's your name and you're the one that should feel comfortable with it." 

"I am surprised that you feel that way, Commander. Your experience of the Borg has been greater than that of the majority of humans. I expected that you would feel the same dislike for me that I have sensed from many others." 

"I may hate the Borg but I don't dislike you. You're an individual now and that's who I want to get to know." 

Will turned a beaming smile on her and, seeing the genuine warmth behind it, Seven gave a tentative smile in return. 

"Well we can't stand around here all afternoon," Deanna took Will's arm, "let's get going." 

They gave their destination to the transporter operator and stepped onto the transporter platform. Seconds later they were gone, reappearing 5855km away in the bustling transporter station that served the city of San Juan. Deanna led the way through the crowd to the section reserved for local transports and requested a transport to Luquillo Beach. 

"Done this before, Deanna?" asked Will, as they once more stepped onto a transporter platform. 

"I love the beach, you know that!" she chided him, "Luquillo is beautiful, you'll love it." 

Will had to agree with her when they emerged from the transporter station at Playa de Luquillo. Gentle waves lapped at a broad crescent of white sand that was fringed by cocoa palms and afforded a spectacular view of the distant El Yunque rainforest and mountain range beyond. They wound their way through the trees to the edge of the beach where Deanna took a blanket from her bag and spread it on the sand. 

"I'm going to change," she declared indicating to a cabana further down the beach. She turned to Seven and for the first time noticed that Seven was empty handed. "Didn't Reg tell you to bring a swimsuit?" 

"He did, but I do not possess such a garment." 

Deanna looked horrified. 

"You can't spend the afternoon at the beach without a swimsuit. Come with me. I know where we can get one for you." 

Seven followed helplessly as Deanna led her back through the trees. 

Will and Reg watched them go, then turned back to the beach and began to unpack the picnic basket that they had brought with them. By the time the two women reappeared they had changed into their swimming shorts and were sitting with their backs against palm trees enjoying a cold drink. Will's eyes widened as he watched them approach. 

"Wow! You look great, Seven!" He turned to Barclay. "Doesn't she, Reg?" 

Reg was unable to speak, he nodded mutely as he stared at Seven. Gone was the dull brown catsuit that she had been wearing and instead she was attired in a vivid blue swimsuit with a matching sarong tied around her waist. After taking a few moments to enjoy the view Reg found his voice. 

"You look wonderful, and so do you, Deanna," he said with a shy smile. 

Deanna beamed back at him. 

"Why thank you, Reg. I'm glad someone appreciates me," she said, pointedly. 

"I always appreciate you!" Will protested grabbing her hand and pulling her into his lap. He lifted her chin with one finger and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. Deanna smiled up at him for a moment then turned to Seven who was still standing beside the blanket looking perplexed. 

"Are you alright, Seven?" 

"I fail to see the necessity of changing my clothing. I did not find my original attire uncomfortable." 

"Perhaps not," Deanna conceded, "but to swim you need a swimsuit. Talking of swimming, I need to cool down, coming?" 

Deanna jumped to her feet and looked expectantly at her companions. Her smile turned to an expression of concern as she regarded Seven. 

"What are you afraid of, Seven?" she asked, gently. 

"I do not know how to swim," Seven answered after a moment of hesitation. 

"You never learned as a child?" Will was amazed. 

"Perhaps I did, but I have no memory of doing so. I have little recollection of the time before I was assimilated. If I was taught how to swim, I no longer remember how and I have had no need to learn." 

Deanna and Will glanced at each other as they wondered what to do next. On the one hand they both wanted to enjoy a dip in the sea, but on the other they felt uncomfortable leaving Seven out of the fun while they enjoyed themselves. Before they could reach a solution, Reg solved their dilemma for them. 

"Don't worry, Seven. I've never liked to swim. We can take a walk along the beach while the others swim." 

"That would be acceptable," Seven stated, with a small smile at her colleague. 

"Well if you're sure?" Deanna waited for Barclay's confirmatory nod before continuing. "Come on, Will, what are you waiting for?" 

Deanna sprinted off towards the ocean leaving Will to race after her. He caught up with her, swung her into his arms and ran into the sea before dropping her, screaming, into the water. Reg and Seven watched the laughing couple for a moment then set off down the beach. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Seven turned to her companion with a question. 

"I am curious. I have observed that Counselor Troi and Commander Riker often appear to communicate without speaking. I know that the counselor is half betazoid and therefore has some telepathic abilities but it is my understanding that Commander Riker is fully human. Does he have abilities of which I am unaware?" 

"No, you're right, the commander isn't normally telepathic but it's different with Deanna, they're Imzadi." 

"I am unfamiliar with that term. Explain please." 

"I'm not sure that I really understand it myself. It's a betazoid word meaning 'beloved' but it's more than that. It's a special bond they share, they can explain it better than I can but it enables them to share their thoughts and their emotions. It's very rare for a human to become linked to a betazoid in that way." Reg looked wistful. "Commander Riker is a very lucky man." 

"You envy him?" 

"How could I not? Deanna is a very special woman." 

"You would like to have a romantic relationship with her." It was a statement not a question. 

"I suppose I would," Reg admitted, "but I know it won't happen, so I've stopped fantasising about the possibility. She's happy with Commander Riker and they share something special. I wouldn't do anything to spoil that for them. I just have to hope that one day I can make someone as happy as he makes her." 

"I have no doubt that you will, Reg." 

Reg stopped in his tracks, surprised both by the unexpected warmth of her statement and her first use of his given name. Regaining his composure he hurried after her and they returned to their picnic spot in companionable silence. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The picnic basket was empty and they were relaxing as they digested their meal. Will was sprawled on the blanket as he dozed in the sunshine, his head in Deanna's lap. Reg had half covered himself with sand as protection from the sun and was snoring gently from under the hat that covered his face. 

"May I ask you a question, Counselor?" 

Seven was seated with her back against a tree and had been deep in thought until she broke the silence with her query. 

"Of course, Seven. What is it?" Deanna was curious to know what had been troubling the ex-Borg. 

"Lieutenant Barclay has informed me that you and Commander Riker have formed a bond that is termed 'Imzadi' and that this bond enables you to share your thoughts. In the collective we shared one thought and one will, is that how it is with you and the commander?" 

"Oh no, not at all! Yes, we can communicate telepathically, but our thoughts are our own until we chose to share them. Unless Will opens his mind to me, I can no more hear his thoughts than I can yours." 

"If that is so then why is this bond considered special? It is my understanding that telepathic communication is normal for betazoids and not unknown in humans." 

"Being Imzadi means more than being able to share our thoughts. To be Imzadi is to share hopes and dreams, happiness and tears, weakness and strength. I feel Will's presence in every fibre of my being, even when we are apart. I know what he wants and what he needs. The bond we share allows me to love him and understand him, to accept him without needing to change him. It's a connection that we feel in our minds, in our hearts and in our souls. In betazoid the term Imzadi means beloved but it also means 'the first'. Will is the first person who was able to touch my soul, the first person to make me feel whole, the first person I gave my heart to and received his in return. He is my beloved and whatever may happen in the future he will always be my first, my Imzadi." 

Seven paused to consider Deanna's words then nodded her understanding, but one thing was still puzzling her. 

"Admiral Janeway told me that it was many years after your first meeting before you began your current relationship. Did you feel this bond when you first met? If you did, why did it take you so long to act on your feelings?" 

"Actually I hated him at first," Deanna looked fondly down at Will, "but it didn't take long before I changed my mind. I think we both realised that what we felt was unusual and very special, but we were young and it was complicated. Will was just starting out on his career. I was still studying on Betazed. I think we were both afraid to make a commitment at that time and later, when we were reunited on the Enterprise, we settled for being close friends. It was easier to stay that way than possibly risk our working relationship by giving in to our feelings." 

"It appears that it is common to be afraid of acting on such feelings. Admiral Janeway expressed similar concerns regarding her relationship with Commander Chakotay." 

"You talked to her about that?" Deanna was amazed. 

"Certainly, you advised me that I should." 

Deanna suppressed a groan and wondered how she could ensure that she didn't encounter Admiral Janeway for the next decade or two. The poor woman would never forgive her. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The afternoon passed in quiet conversation and companionable silence. As the sun began to set Deanna and Will took a stroll down the beach leaving Seven and Reg alone. Seven was lost in thought and Reg grew concerned as he watched her studying a nearby family with a wistful expression. 

"Are you alright, Seven?" 

Seven started at the sound of her name and turned her attention back to her companion. 

"I was observing the other groups around us. There are many families here who seem to be enjoying themselves, it made me wonder if my parents ever took me to the beach. I regret that I have no memory of such occasions." 

"Do you have any memories of your childhood?" 

"I recall some incidents from my time on the Raven, I remember the sound of my father's voice and the smell of my mother's perfume, but I have no memory of being on earth or of my family here. The assimilation process suppresses such memories and although I had hoped that they would return they have not yet done so." 

"Perhaps your family could help. Didn't you say that you had an Aunt who was anxious to see you?" 

"She has invited me to visit her, but I have not yet done so." 

"Don't you think it's time you did?" 

Seven thought for a moment before nodding slowly. 

"I believe that it is." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Annika! Welcome! Come in, come in!" 

Irene Hansen threw open the door to her home and ushered her niece inside. 

"I was so thrilled to get your message saying you were coming to visit. Now stand back and let me look at you." 

Seven stood in bewildered silence, as her aunt looked her up and down. Irene nodded in satisfaction. 

"You're your parents' daughter that's for sure. Now come and sit down and tell me all about yourself. I want to hear everything!" 

Irene led her niece out to the back porch and settled her in a wicker chair. She poured two glasses of lemonade before turning to look expectantly at Seven. 

"I am not sure what you wish to know." 

"Like I said – everything! Tell me what you've been up to since you got home. How does it feel to be back? Why did it take you so long to come visit?" 

"After Starfleet decided that I did not pose a threat to the Federation they offered me a position within the Engineering department at Headquarters. I am aiding in the development of enhanced astrometrics laboratories for integration into Starships. The laboratory aboard Voyager was significantly improved by the inclusion of Borg technology. The aim is to share that technology with the rest of the fleet. It is interesting work." 

"I'm sure it is." Irene sounded totally disinterested. "I'm glad you're enjoying your work, how about outside of work. Is it good to be home?" 

"I do not regard Earth as home since I have no memory of living here as a child. What memories I have from my childhood are of being aboard the Raven. Voyager was the closest to a home that I have known and I have found returning to Earth to be unsettling." 

"Is that why it's taken you so long to come see me?" 

"Perhaps so. It has taken me some time to adjust to leaving Voyager. On the ship people were familiar with my appearance, but on Earth I am an object of curiosity and sometimes hatred. It is unpleasant to be subject to such intense scrutiny wherever I go." 

"It must be hard." Irene's voice was rich with sympathy. "But you are my niece, my brother's child, it doesn't matter to me if you are Borg or human. You are family and that is the only thing that counts." 

Seven smiled at her aunt. 

"I would like to learn more about my family and especially about my parents. I have little memory of them and yet you say I am my parents' child. I am curious as to how I resemble them. I have seen no likeness in the images in the Starfleet database." 

"You have your father's height and build, but your eyes come from your mother. She had that same determined gaze. I'd know it anywhere and you had it even as a small child." 

"Did I visit you often?" 

"Whenever your parents needed a sitter, which was at least twice a week. They left you here when they went to meetings at Starfleet. That was before they left the 'fleet to pursue their own research." 

Seven detected the veiled anger in her voice. 

"You believe they made the wrong decision." 

"They were free to make their own choices, but they shouldn't have taken you with them. It was never any kind of life for a child and they should never have exposed you to that risk. We knew nothing about the Borg at that time, but going into an uncharted area of space was bound to be dangerous. I wanted to keep you here with me, but they refused. When you left I thought I'd never see you again." Her eyes filled with tears at the memory. 

"They thought that they could protect me. I do not blame them for what the Borg did to us, they had no chance to resist. I was happy on the Raven, all that mattered to me was that I was with my parents and that they loved me. I do not regret that they took me with them. You should not either." 

"It's hard not to be bitter when I think what the Borg did to my little Annie. They even took your name and replaced it with a number." 

"The Borg system of designations is more efficient, names would be confusing within the collective." 

Irene sighed. 

"I know, but you're not in the collective now. Why do you continue to use Seven? It's such an ugly name." 

"When Admiral Janeway separated me from the collective it was the only name I knew. I had no memory of my life before I was assimilated and the name Annika meant nothing to me. I kept the name I was familiar with because so much was changing and I needed to have something remain constant. It was hard to find my identity as an individual. It was suggested that I revert to my human name, but Annika was a child and a stranger. I didn't feel like Annika Hansen then and I didn't believe that I ever would." 

"And now?" 

"Now I don't know, I no longer consider myself to be Borg but I am still discovering what it means to be human. Perhaps one day I will feel like Annika again." 

"You will always be Annika to me, so I hope you'll forgive me if I continue to call you that. I'm too old to change now." 

"I would like it if you did. Perhaps it will help me to remember more about my family." 

"Oh, I can do far more to help you with that. Let me get my photo albums." She leapt to her feet and hurried into the house. Seven watched her go then turned back to survey her surroundings. Sitting there on the porch she felt a new sense of warmth and security, suddenly this place seemed safe and familiar. She frowned, wondering if her imagination was playing tricks on her. Could it be that she remembered her aunt's home? Wrapped up in her thoughts she didn't hear Irene return and was startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

"Is something wrong, Annika?" Irene asked with concern. 

Seven glanced up at her aunt then indicated towards a tall tree at the end of the yard. It was a sturdy specimen with wide sweeping branches and dense foliage. 

"Was there once a treehouse in that tree?" she asked hesitantly. 

Irene's face broke into a beaming smile. 

"You remember!" she exclaimed in delight. "It's still there, come see!" 

Irene practically dragged her niece to the foot of the tree. Seven stood gazing up into the branches where she was able to make out the shape of a small cabin perched among the boughs. 

"I loved to hide away up there," she said softly. "You would bring me cookies and lemonade and I would stay there until you forced me to come down." 

"I never knew what you did up there. For such a young child you were remarkably self-reliant, but I always knew where to find you," Irene remembered. She wrapped an arm around Seven's waist pulling her close and together they stood in silence staring at the home of their shared memories. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Sometime later they were once more settled on the porch and Irene could stand it no longer. 

"Annie, I've just got to ask, why do you wear such dreadful clothes?" 

Seven looked down at her dark red catsuit. 

"My garments were designed by the doctor to protect my dermoplastic grafts following the removal of my Borg implants." 

"That's lovely, dear, I'm sure he did a wonderful job but do you still need them?" 

"It is no longer necessary that I wear them, the grafts are now fully integrated into by own skin. However, I am accustomed to this clothing and have not felt the need to adopt another form of dress." 

"Well you should," Irene was blunt. "You say that you dislike the attention your appearance receives and yet you dress in such a way that no man within a hundred metres could fail to appreciate your, ummm, assets." Her hands outlined exaggerated curves. "Frankly my dear, you look like one of those dolls that grown men design for little girls, but which owe more to their own vision of a playmate than that of a child. You're a strikingly beautiful young woman, but you have a brain too. Make sure that it's your face that people talk to, not your breasts." 

Seven was silent for a moment as she considered her aunt's words. 

"Perhaps you are right. Would you assist me in choosing more appropriate attire?" 

Irene was delighted. 

"I thought you'd never ask, come with me." 

She led the way into the house and twenty minutes later Seven was standing in front of a mirror studying her reflection. She was dressed in navy blue leggings and a pale blue v-necked top in a finely knitted fabric that draped softly from her shoulders lightly skimming her breasts and hips before ending at mid-thigh. Her hair had been freed from its harsh pleat and was clipped at the nape of her neck by a silver clasp. 

"Well? What do you think?" Irene was anxious to hear Seven's verdict. 

"I look...different." 

"You look like your mother," Irene decided. 

Seven shook her head. 

"No," she whispered. "No, I don't. I look like Annika." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Annika, have you seen the padd with the specs for Defiant class vessels?" Reg Barclay rummaged frantically through the stack of padd's on the desk. 

"I believe you took it home with you last night. Did you not bring it back this morning?" 

"Damn it, no! I left it on my desk. I'll have to go get it, I need to finish this report today." 

Reg hurried to the door only to come to an abrupt stop as he encountered a figure in the doorway. 

"Data! What are you doing here? I thought the Enterprise was on a diplomatic mission to Daled IV?" 

"My presence was not required aboard the Enterprise. I have been attending a conference on matrix transfer technology." 

"It's good to see you, Data. I haven't seen you since Doctor Zimmerman's sentience hearing. Oh," Reg suddenly remembered that there was someone else present, "do you remember Annika Hansen?" 

Data turned to her and inclined his head in greeting. 

"Indeed I do, although I believe that you have changed you name since we last met, Miss Hansen." 

"I have found that since my return to Earth I have felt a greater connection to my humanity. It no longer seemed appropriate to use my Borg designation." 

"I have often wished that I could become human. I would be interested to hear how it feels for a human to become a machine." 

Annika paused for a moment as she considered the question. 

"The Borg cease to experience emotion when they are assimilated and so there is no 'feeling' associated with the process. I have no recollection of becoming Borg and when I was freed from the collective being Borg was all that I remembered. Becoming Borg was easy, reclaiming my individuality has been far harder." 

"Do you regret leaving the collective?" 

"At first I wished to return, I found the silence in my mind disturbing, but that is no longer the case. I am anxious to learn more about what it means to be human. The greatest challenge is learning how to feel. I have found it hard to interpret my emotions and express my feelings. Did you experience similar problems when your emotion chip was first installed?" 

"I suspect that it was easier for me. I had to learn the significance of the physical symptoms I was experiencing, but since my emotions are programmed rather than natural I experience each emotion in the same way each time that subroutine is triggered. It is my understanding that human emotion is considerably more complex." 

"So I have found," said Annika ruefully. "I have found that emotions are not always appropriate to the situation that provokes them." 

"I have observed that humans often react to situations in the same way as one or other of their parents. It seems that there is a genetic aspect to emotion that makes nature as well as nurture important when considering an individual's likely reaction to any set of circumstances. Certainly, when programming my emotion chip, my creator based my emotional response upon his own. Therefore I will react to events much as he would. Perhaps you should seek answers to some of your questions from members of your family." 

"I will do so the next time I visit my Aunt." 

"Do you visit her often?" 

"I had not visited her at all until recently, but now that I have done so I hope to see her more frequently." 

"Family is important to humans. I imagine that she was anxious to meet you. I am surprised that you did not visit her earlier. You have been on Earth for nearly ten months. Did you feel no desire to see her?" 

"I am unsure how I felt. I was curious to meet her and learn more about my family and my childhood, but I was also afraid to do so." 

"You were afraid of what you might learn from her?" Data turned an inquiring gaze on Annika. 

"No, I think I was afraid of disappointing her. She knew me as a child, but I am a different person now, the Borg changed me and I may not have been what she expected. I was afraid that she would not like what she saw." 

"Humans have a great capacity for understanding and forgiveness, especially towards their families. It is likely that she was happy just to have the chance to get to know you as are now. I believe that the expression that is used is 'warts and all'." 

Annika frowned. 

"That is an extremely ugly expression." 

"It is," Data agreed. "But I believe that is the point." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The communications console bleeped to indicate an incoming transmission. Looking up to find that she was alone in the laboratory, Annika crossed the room and opened the comm line. Her eyes widened in surprise as she recognised the face on the screen. 

"Doctor, it has been a long time. How are you?" 

"Seven? I was expecting to see Lieutenant Barclay." The Doctor's surprise was evident. "You look different! Wonderful!" 

"Thank you Doctor, and please, call me Annika. I have ceased using my Borg designation." 

"Well then, you must call me Joe!" 

"Reg told me that you had decided to honour Joe Carey in your choice of name. It is an excellent choice, Lieutenant Carey was a very special man." 

"He certainly was. I'm proud to carry his name." 

The awkward silence was broken by Annika. 

"I have been wanting to contact you, but I was unsure if you would wish to see me. I was insensitive in my behaviour toward you while we were on Voyager and during your trial. I hope you can forgive me." 

"Of course I want to see you, Se-Annika. I have missed our friendship." 

"As have I. I did not appreciate the value of friendship until my return to Earth. I have had much to learn and I have been fortunate to meet some wonderful people who have helped me understand more about the nature of friendship and love." 

"That's marvellous, Annika. I'm glad you haven't been alone." 

"They have taught me well and I am grateful for their friendship, but no one has cared for me in the way that you once did. You told me last year that you loved me and I ignored your feelings. That was cruel of me and I am sorry. You will always be my dearest and most trusted friend. I don't know if you still feel the same way, or if I will ever be able to return your love, but I want you to know that I do care for you deeply. Perhaps in time, if we were to resume out friendship, we could become closer." 

The doctor's face was alight with pleasure. 

"Just to have your friendship is enough for me. There's no need to rush into anything more." 

"I have no intention of hurrying," Annika stated solemnly. "I have learned that if a relationship is meant to be it grows stronger with time. If we are meant to be more than friends then we will know when the moment is right." 

"We have plenty of time to find out. Perhaps we could start by having dinner. Would you care to join me here tomorrow night?" 

"I should like that." 

"Wonderful," the Doctor beamed. "See you tomorrow!" 

With one last farewell the Doctor ended the transmission, forgetting that he had failed in his original intent to speak with Reginald Barclay, leaving Annika to return to her work with a lighter heart and a happy smile. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The door to the lab slid open to reveal a nervous looking cadet. His gaze scanned the room until he found his target. With some trepidation he approached the tall blonde woman working at a console in the corner. Annika turned as he approached, smiling inwardly as she watched him struggle to speak. 

"Can I help you, Cadet?" 

"No, Ma'am. I mean yes, Ma'am. I have a message for you, Ma'am," he stuttered, holding out the padd he carried. 

"Thank you, Cadet," she said, taking the padd. "Were you instructed to wait for a reply?" 

"No, Ma'am." 

"Then you may leave. Unless there was something else?" 

"No, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am," he turned and hurried out of the room. 

Annika watched him leave then turned her attention the padd in her hand. A frown creased her brow as she studied its contents. Her change of expression caught Reg Barclay's attention. 

"Bad news?" he inquired. 

"It's a request for assistance from the team working on turning Voyager into a museum. Lieutenant Anderson has been contacting the former crew members asking for personal accounts of Voyager's journey and for articles for the exhibition. He says that he apologises for the short notice, but I was inadvertently left off the original contact list." She frowned again. "I am unsure what he wants from me. All the information is in the ship's logs and I had no personal articles aboard Voyager." 

"I think by accounts of the journey he means your memories and feelings relating to your time on board. And didn't you tell me that some people you encountered gave you a blanket? The Vartu?" 

"The Ventu. Yes, they gave me a blanket, but I fail to see how a blanket would be of interest to anyone. In any case I would not wish to part with it." 

"People are always intrigued by articles from other cultures, but you don't need to send the blanket, send in a replica." 

"Very well, if you think that is what they require." 

"And I'm sure that you have some stories to tell about your time on Voyager. You were in a unique situation, very likely your perspective differs from that of other crewmembers." 

"Perhaps, but I am not the same person now that I was then and I am not sure that I wish to remember those days. Adjusting to life here on Earth was not easy for me and I need to look forward not back." 

"I know it's been hard, but you've coped with it wonderfully. I could never have handled what you've been through, first to be assimilated and then to have to rediscover your individuality. Captain Picard struggled to recover from his time as Locutus and that was only a few days. To make the adjustment after so many years as a drone is an amazing achievement. You are a remarkable woman, Annika." 

She turned to smile at him. 

"Thank you, Reg, but you have helped me a great deal. It would have been much harder without your assistance and that of your friends." 

"Our friends, Annika, they're your friends too now." 

"Our friends then, but I have you to thank for that too," Annika placed a light kiss on the cheek of the blushing Lieutenant. "Thank you again, Reg" 

Embarrassed, Reg hastened to change the subject. 

"If you're going to contribute to the museum, don't you think you should start sorting through your belongings?" 

"Very well, it's time to leave anyway. Would you help me decide what would make an appropriate exhibit?" 

"I'd love to," Reg enthused, "I love to hear people reminisce about their time on Voyager." 

As they left the lab and hurried off to complete their mission, Annika wondered for a moment whether Icheb had been equally fortunate since his arrival on Earth. She considered contacting him to find out, but dismissed the idea. She knew he had left Voyager with Naomi and Samantha Wildman. Sam was a wonderful woman and Naomi loved Icheb, he would have all the support he needed. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Aunt Irene?" 

"Is that you, Annie? I'm in the kitchen." 

Annika walked into the kitchen of her aunt's home and set down the box and bag she was carrying. 

"This is a wonderful surprise, I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," Irene exclaimed happily as she gave her niece a kiss. 

"We had completed the reports we require for our meeting on Monday so we decided to start the weekend early," Annika explained. "I hope you don't mind, perhaps I should have called first." 

"Nonsense, you're always welcome here, you know that," Irene chided. "Why don't you take your things upstairs and do whatever it is you have to do with that ugly alcove contraption you had me make room for, warm it up or plug it in." She waved her hand in distaste. "I'll fix us some lemonade and cookies." 

"Very well," Annika picked up her bag, "but could I have a strawberry milkshake instead?" She turned a pleading gaze on her aunt. 

"Annika Hansen! The amount of milkshake you drink, you're going to turn into a blimp!" Irene exclaimed in mock horror. 

Annika grinned and left the room. 

A short while later she joined her aunt on the porch, still carrying the box she had brought with her. Putting the box on the floor beside her she sat down, took a sip of milkshake, closed her eyes and sighed with satisfaction. 

"Well?" 

Annika opened her eyes to find her aunt glaring at her. 

"What?" 

"Are you going to tell me what's in that box you've been lugging around with you, or do I have to guess?" 

"I have been sorting through the belongings I brought from Voyager and I found the logs that Voyager recovered from the Raven. They contain my parents' field notes and accounts of our journey. I thought that you might wish to see them." 

Irene's eyes filled with tears at the thought of catching a final glimpse of her brother and his wife. 

"Thank you, Annie. You don't know how much that means to me. Bless you for thinking of me." 

"I should like to be with you when you view them, if that would be acceptable." 

"That would be more than acceptable, that would be wonderful!" Irene was delighted. She peered into the box. "It looks like it could take a while there are lots here!" 

"They recorded every detail of the journey. It took me many hours to review the logs when Admiral Janeway first ordered me to do so and there is much that I have not yet seen." 

Irene hesitated for a moment before deciding to say what was on her mind. 

"Since it will take so long, I was wondering, would you consider coming to stay here for a while? More than a weekend, I mean. A couple of months maybe, even a year? I've been wanting to ask you but perhaps you'd rather stay in San Francisco?" she realised that she was babbling, stopped abruptly and looked hopefully at her niece. 

"I should like to stay," Annika replied. "Thank you for asking me." 

"For how long?" Irene was excited. 

"For as long as you will have me." 

Irene was stunned. 

"You would consider staying here permanently?" 

Annika nodded. "I enjoy being here with you, it feels..." she searched for the right words, "It feels like home." 

Irene swept her into a warm embrace. 

"Then that's what it is. Welcome home, Annika"   
  
  
  



	8. Waiting by Mary S.

Waiting Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount. What I've done with them belongs to me.   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Sam and Naomi Wildman bring Icheb into their family as they wait for Starfleet Command to decide their futures. 

Waiting   
_Copyright September 2001 by Mary S._

Naomi Wildman stood in the middle of the quarters she had shared all her life with her mother, Samantha. They weren't just quarters but home – the only one she had ever known. All this talk of 'getting home', she thought. It had been a recurring theme for as long as she could remember, a constant goal never to be forgotten or pushed aside, the ultimate answer to all their troubles. "When we get home…." her mother would say wistfully, and go on to talk of something or someone that meant very little to Naomi. Once or twice she'd had to remind her mom that she was home. Voyager was not only her birthplace but where she wanted to be. The only people who seemed to have the slightest inkling of how she felt were Seven of Nine and Icheb. Two ex-Borg drones now trying to regain their individuality. At least she didn't have that problem on top of everything else. 

And now, here they were – suddenly in orbit around a blue and green planet, which looked, in Naomi's opinion anyway, just like a lot of other planets she had seen in her short life. Everyone was running around excited and disorganized saying wasn't it wonderful to be home! No one seemed to remember that it wasn't her home. She surveyed the piles on the floor – all their possessions, sorted into what they were keeping and what they would recycle. Several large storage containers were stacked along one wall. She was supposed to be packing her things, but she just couldn't bring herself to start. Somehow, she felt that if she did, she would be abandoning her whole life – all that she'd ever known and done. 

She sighed heavily and stared out the viewport, wishing Neelix was still with them. She missed him desperately, although she was glad he had made a new life with his own people. He had always found a way to make her feel better when she was upset about something. She tried to think what he might say to her now, but her brain couldn't get past the misery that she felt right down to her toes. 

She heard the door hiss open. 

"Naomi," called her mother. "How are you getting on….?" Samantha's voice trailed off as she came into the room and saw the piles just as she had left them an hour before. She stared at her daughter. 

"Sweetheart, we have to get this done! We're supposed to be moving in three hours and you haven't even started! Come on! We can't be late!" 

Samantha lifted down a container as she spoke and began to fill it from one of the piles – her clothes as it happened. Naomi picked her way to her side reluctantly. 

"Mom, do we really have to go? I mean, couldn't we stay here for just another day or so?" 

Samantha stared at her in shock. "Naomi! No, we can't! Starfleet has ordered all personnel off the ship by 1500 hours today, and it's already 1100. Besides, I can't wait to actually set foot on Earth! It's been so long!" She was grinning in anticipation. "So many times, I wondered if we'd ever see home again – and here we are! As if we popped out of a bottle!" She finished the first container, tagged it, and pulled down the next. 

"Mom," said Naomi softly, trying not to whine. "I…..don't want to go." 

"Sweetheart, we have to. Besides, you'll like it, really you will. And you know what? I forgot to tell you in all the excitement. Icheb is coming with us!" 

"He is?!" 

"Yes. I've just come from a meeting with Captain Janeway. She asked me if I would look after him for a while until his admission to the Academy is sorted out. We came home so fast, you see, that we caught Starfleet quite by surprise. They haven't had time to notify any of the families yet, or to decide when Icheb can be admitted." 

"You mean my father isn't here?" 

"No, darling, he's not. But I'm sure he will be soon." 

"Where is he?" 

"I don't know exactly. I was told he's on some sort of diplomatic mission, but that was all I could get from Command. They're very busy." Sam's voice held a wistful note, and she looked away, trying to hold back sudden tears. She had been upset, if not entirely surprised, to learn that her husband, Greskrendtregk, was not on Earth. 

Voyager's sudden, spectacular return to Earth had caught officialdom quite off guard, and these first few days, the bureaucrats were scrambling to get all the paperwork completed to allow the crew to disembark. The ship to be put in drydock, families notified, housing organized – the list went on and on. As well, command decisions had to be made, and made fast, about the various fates of the Maquis, the former Borg drones, and the holographic doctor. The captain was doing her best to help Starfleet Command sort through the complicated relationships that had formed, so that disruption of the crew could be kept to a minimum. Maquis and Starfleet – forced together in desperation, now inseparably intertwined, a hologram who had far exceeded his programming, attaining sentience in the process, two ex-drones both well on their way to achieving their individuality, to the point where one was involved in a serious romance with the former Maquis captain. 

Then there was poor Icheb, whose feelings had been badly hurt when Seven unceremoniously brushed him aside in her almost indecent haste to unite with Chakotay. And buried deep down, where she could pretend to ignore them, were Janeway's own unresolved feelings about her first officer. 

Samantha had seen a look of misery flash across the captain's face, just for the merest second, when the latter mentioned that she didn't know what to do about Icheb, now that he and Seven had apparently come to a parting of the ways. But it had been enough for Sam to know that the captain was hurting a lot more than she would ever admit. On impulse, and in an effort to help in any way she could, she had volunteered to take Icheb with her until his future could be decided. Janeway had thanked her gratefully. 

Naomi's voice broke into her thoughts. "I'm glad Icheb is coming with us. Then it won't be quite so lonely." She picked up her old, ragged Flotter and popped him into the container, feeling a little happier. "Maybe if we can get finished here, we can help him pack. Okay, Mom?" 

"Sure. Actually, that reminds me. I better talk to the doctor, find out just what he needs….." 

Three hours later, the Wildmans and Icheb stood on the transporter platform. Somewhat surprisingly, Seven was there to see them off. The farewell was more than a little strained and Samantha wasted no time in requesting transport. She knew Icheb was upset enough as it was, no thanks to Seven, and didn't want him to suffer anymore than he already had. Naomi, unhappy to be leaving Voyager for good, wasn't any better. Best to get both her charges into their new quarters, where they would have lots of distractions. Suddenly, she couldn't wait to get off the ship. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Over two weeks passed with nothing beyond vague, meaningless words of reassurance from various staff at Starfleet Command. Try as she might, Sam could not get any fresh news either on her husband's whereabouts or when they might expect to see him. The situation on other fronts was no better. There had been no further word from the Academy regarding Icheb – for the moment he was in limbo. As well, she had no idea if she could expect leave and for how long. Personnel were being particularly obtuse, and Samantha, normally a gentle, mild-mannered woman, was becoming quite annoyed. 

Finally the call she had been hoping for came from the Federation Diplomatic Office. Greskrendtregk was presently located on the other side of the quadrant, assisting 'fleet diplomats in delicate negotiations with a strategically–placed neutral planet. Talks were at a critical point. His presence was regarded as essential for the team's success. In short, no matter how urgent the reason, he couldn't leave for several weeks at the very least. Sam tried to be philosophical – after all, she explained to Naomi, he had waited for them for seven years. Surely, another month or two wouldn't kill them. Naomi, nervous about meeting her father, was both impatient and relieved at the same time. 

A day later, an aide to Admiral Muir contacted Sam to inform her that a Board of Review would be examining the ship's logs and interrogating the crew about their experiences in the Delta Quadrant. She was scheduled to testify the following Monday at 0900 and could expect to be questioned for two to three weeks, possibly longer. She was to bring with her all her official logs, as well as such personal ones as were relevant to ship's operations, plus copies of her reports. 

Sam spent the intervening days ensuring that all her logs and records were couched in official Starfleet prose, and were as detailed and up-to-date as possible. While she was occupied, Naomi and Icheb were left pretty much to their own devices. Trying to find some way to keep themselves occupied, Icheb suggested they resume her lessons. Although at first Naomi scorned the idea as boring, he was quick to point out that they could include exploring their surroundings, under the heading of geography, as part of her curriculum. Suddenly, she was much more enthusiastic, and with Sam's cautious approval, the two set off. 

Each morning they headed out after breakfast to spend the day discovering a different part of San Francisco and the surrounding area. They made an unusual pair, even in that cosmopolitan city. Although Naomi was big for a six-year-old, she looked quite diminutive next to tall, thin Icheb. Her sprightly manner was a complete contrast to his grave, slightly pedantic air. More than one passerby stopped to watch the child with waist-length red hair chattering away to the solemn young man beside her, at times grasping his hand to tug him along at a faster pace. 

They climbed up one side and down the other of Russian Hill, meandered along the preserved area of the Embarcadero and Fisherman's Wharf, and took a tour out to Alcatraz. Another day, they walked across the Golden Gate Bridge and back, and on still another, they boarded the local hoverbus for the coast, in order to stroll along the beach and admire the long rolling waves which had crossed the Pacific Ocean unbroken by any land. By the end of a week, both were feeling quite at home in the Bay Area and were missing Voyager far less than they would have believed possible. 

Sam, meanwhile, was spending hour after hour at the end of a boardroom table facing a whole flock of admirals. She was doing her best to answer all their questions, but some of them were just downright silly. As the days wore on, she tried to keep her voice calm and even, but she knew that once or twice, her irritation had slipped through. There were a lot of questions about Neelix and the role he had played on the ship and, in particular, in her life. Then there were the ones about the captain and commander – did she know if they had indulged in a personal relationship? The admiral asking that one got a very hard stare and a dignified "no, I do not" in reply. As if realizing they were pushing her close to insubordination, they backed off and asked no more about her commanding officers. 

By the end of each day, she was exhausted and able only to eat a bit of dinner and collapse into bed. Knowing that Naomi and Icheb were keeping each other well entertained was a great relief to her. More than ever, she blessed the impulse that had made her take him under her wing. He was repaying her casual kindness a hundred times over. 

Then, finally, it was over. The board announced that it had no more questions at the present time, although she was advised to keep herself available in San Francisco. Sam stood at attention, nodding her head obediently. She missed half of what the admiral was saying. All she wanted at that point was to get out of there – the sooner the better. 

She strolled out into the sunshine and looked around, able for the first time to just enjoy being home. On impulse, she tapped her commbadge. 

"Wildman to Naomi Wildman." 

"Naomi here. Hi Mom! Are you finished?" 

"I am indeed. Where are you?" 

"We're back on Fisherman's Wharf, at pier 39, watching the sea lions." 

"Don't move. I'll be there as quickly as I can. Wildman out." 

Naomi and Icheb were quite content to sit on the pier, watching both the animals and all the different forms of sentient life strolling by. Even with their large experience of different species, they were fascinated by the tremendous variety of forms in which Federation citizens came. They spent a considerable amount of time trying to guess the name and home planet of each one. Some, like Deltans or Andorians, were easy. Some, such as Bajorans and Bolians, they already knew.. But there were so many others, like those green ones over there for example, about which they had no idea. Sam found them swinging their legs over the edge of the pier as they debated the possible origin of their latest subject of scrutiny – what looked like a mobile rock. 

"Hi Mom," shouted Naomi. "Over here!" 

As she came up to them, they both scrambled to their feet. 

"Ens….Sa….Samantha," stuttered Icheb, still uncomfortable using her given name, although she had told him several times that she wanted him to. "Do you know the name of that species over there? The one that looks like a moving stone." 

Sam turned around to see where he was pointing, then began to smile. "That's a Horta, Icheb. A very old race, even for the Alpha Quadrant. They come from Janus VI, and are renowned for their mining ability. They can eat and digest solid rock. Every fifty thousand years, they all die except for one. That one looks after the eggs, caring for them until they hatch, and start the cycle again. You're lucky to see one. They don't often leave their homeworld. Travel is not easy for them." 

Both young people stared in awe. Naomi asked the next question. "Are there many more races as strange as that one?" 

"Who knows? 'Strange' is a relative term, isn't it? I mean, to them, we're the ones who are strange. If you mean – 'different from us', then yes, there probably are. The Alpha Quadrant teems with life, all kinds of it." 

"More than the Delta Quadrant?" asked Icheb quickly. 

"In some ways, yes, but we didn't see all the Delta Quadrant, after all. It's hard to make a true comparison." 

The boy nodded thoughtfully. 

Sam glanced at him, curious. "Don't you remember from the Collective? Seven could always tell us whether or not the Borg had ever encountered a species." 

"Not since I removed my cortical node," he replied. "It allowed me to retain all the knowledge I gained as a Borg. Without it, that knowledge is gradually disappearing." 

Sam stopped dead in her tracks. "Icheb! How do you know?!" 

"It's very simple. I can no longer name all the species which the Borg have assimilated, something I should be able to do easily. As easily as you can recite the alphabet." 

Naomi was intrigued. "Does this mean that you can't learn anymore because you'll forget it all?" 

"No, not at all. I can learn just as I always have. What it does mean is that the knowledge I acquired while in the Collective is now disappearing. I do not know how to stop it." 

Remembering Seven's periodic guilt trips, Sam rather thought this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, and said as much. "It may be just as well, you know. You can avoid a tremendous amount of self-recrimination." 

"Yes, no doubt you are correct." He didn't sound too sure. 

At that moment, they chanced upon an ice cream stand, and the discussion was put aside while they each armed themselves with a large cone. They continued to meander along the walkway, the conversation wandering into other channels. Finally, at the foot of Market Street, they found the public transporter and in no time, were whisked back to their quarters. Sam came to the conclusion that she had just spent the best two hours since returning to the Alpha Quadrant, and resolved to do it more often. 

As soon as they walked in the door, Icheb was at the console, but the message light remained irritatingly dark. Still nothing from the Academy. Although he tried not to show it, he was starting to get very worried. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Another two weeks passed with no word from either Headquarters or the Academy. Samantha was starting to wonder if she should enrol Naomi in a regular school. But the uncertainty of their situation mitigated against it. The girl had been abruptly torn from the only home she had ever known. Sam didn't want to take the chance of having to uproot her again. She decided that teaching her at home would be just as effective and a lot easier, emotionally. Besides, she found herself thoroughly enjoying her company. On the ship, Sam had always been on duty for a good portion of each day. So often, she had missed the little moments, the small accomplishments, of her daughter's life. She felt now as if she were making up for a lot of lost time. 

Naomi and Icheb took Sam on several tours of the Bay Area, covering their favourite spots. While she enjoyed the unaccustomed freedom, she was beginning to experience an ominous feeling of dread, that something dire was about to happen. It took a while before she realized that for seven years, she had never been able to totally relax, that in the back of her mind, she knew she always had to be at yellow alert. She would never have believed how difficult it could be to completely shut down her 'alarm system', for lack of a better term. She actually discussed it one evening with Icheb, after Naomi had gone to bed. 

"I feel almost silly, you know," she began. "I mean, we're perfectly safe here. And yet, I just have this feeling." 

Icheb tilted his head to one side, analyzing her remark and what his response should be. Sometimes, Sam could swear she saw the nanoprobes spinning. 

"I believe you are experiencing an autonomic response. After such a long time, your body cannot instantly make the transition from a state of constant awareness to one of complete rest. It will take time." 

"I realize all that. But it's been – how long? Over eleven weeks. I should be settled in by now." 

"You were in the Delta Quadrant for seven years, Samantha," he reminded her firmly. "I believe you are trying too hard to adapt to life here now. Perhaps, if you could be more patient….." 

She sighed. "I guess so. And it doesn't help that we're existing in a sort of limbo right now, not knowing what's going to happen. Without even a husband." 

"Do you miss him?" Icheb was curious. 

"Just as much as I have for seven years. In some ways, perhaps, even more, because I had assumed he'd be here waiting for us. This delay doesn't help." 

"I'm sure he is making every effort to get back as quickly as he can." 

"I know he is. And at least we can communicate now and then – more than once a month, anyway. But it's not the same as having him here. And I know Naomi is anxious about him. It's hard on her, wondering what her father is like, hoping he'll like her, not knowing." She smiled gently and caressed Icheb's hair. "I could not have managed these last weeks without your help. Whatever the future holds for us, I want you always to be a part of this family. I've grown much too fond of you to say goodbye for good." 

A very rare smile flitted across his features. "Thank you, Samantha. I….feel ….the same. Separating from Voyager and everyone there has been much easier for me than I believed it would be, thanks to you and Naomi. If your husband agrees, I would like to remain 'part of the family'." 

"He will, don't worry about that. He's a very kind, giving person." Rather like Commander Chakotay, she had been about to add, but stopped herself in time. Not a good place to go right now, she reminded herself. She rose to her feet. "I'm tired. See you in the morning. Goodnight." 

"Goodnight, Samantha." 

Ten days later, they finally received a message from Starfleet Command, but it wasn't what either of them wished to hear. The review board wished to question Icheb about his experiences, both as a Borg and afterwards, on Voyager. The admiral's aide, who visited them to make the request in person, was careful to point out that, as a civilian, Icheb could refuse to say anything, but the board was anxious to hear his testimony. Would he be agreeable? 

He looked to Sam for guidance, but she just shrugged her shoulders. She couldn't advise him – it had to be his decision alone. He stared unseeingly for a minute or two, then nodded his head. The aide thanked him, adding that he could expect to be called in two days time. 

After the man had left, Icheb turned to Sam for guidance. What would they want to know? Where would he be questioned – in someone's office, in a courtroom? What would he need to prepare? He was as nervous as she had ever seen him. 

"Icheb," she finally broke into the barrage of questions. "They won't eat you, I promise!" 

"I know, but they could decide I cannot be admitted to the Academy. Perhaps that is why I haven't heard anything." 

"It's possible, I suppose, although one should not affect the other. I think that, more likely, the Admissions office at the Academy is still trying to work through your rather unorthodox education. It's hard for them, you know. They've never had a former drone apply before. I honestly think they're not quite sure what to do. Give them time." 

He took a deep breath, obviously forcing himself to relax. "You're right, of course. I should not let my fears colour my perception of reality." 

"That's it. Now, let's go out for a while and find some ice cream. I think we all need it." 

She retrieved Naomi, who had been trying to remain quiet despite her own questions and concerns, and they all headed out to spend a day down on Fisherman's Wharf – a spot which they had mutually decided was their favourite. 

Two days later, at 0900, Icheb presented himself in front of the Board of Review. He held himself well in check, determined to show no outward sign of nervousness. His calm demeanour and grave air made him seem much older than he actually was, a fact that was brought home to the board when the first admiral began to question him in depth about his relationship to Seven of Nine. 

"Mr. Icheb," began the man in a cold voice. "I would like you to explain, in full detail, your connection with the other drones on board the ship. Were you relaying orders from the Collective to Seven of Nine? Did you plan to assimilate the crew? What about the drones who were brought on board with you? What happened to them? Where are they now? Are you still part of the Collective at this time? Can you hear their thoughts?" 

Icheb sat silent under the torrent, stunned not only by the number of questions, but the man's obviously hostile attitude. He didn't know that this particular admiral had lost his only son and daughter-in-law at the Battle of Wolf 359. Even though years had passed since that massacre, and the admiral had honestly believed he had overcome his feelings of hatred and revenge, the actual sight of a drone, even an ex-drone, served to revive his revulsion. It was all he could do to remain in the same room. 

Admiral Muir, aware of the circumstances and chastising himself for allowing the man to sit on the panel, leaned forward to reassure the young man. "Icheb, if you could answer the questions, please. Take your time." 

The latter pulled himself together. "Yes, Admiral." He began the tale – of how he had been sent by his own family to infect the Borg with a deadly pathogen, his eventual rescue by Voyager with four others from the infected cube, how he had been reunited with his parents only to have them send him back to the Borg as soon as Voyager was gone. For over an hour, he continued the story. How the ship's crew had rescued him a second time, how Seven, in particular, had acted as his mentor, teaching him how to regain his individuality as she had regained hers. And how he had repaid her by donating his cortical node when hers had failed beyond repair, thereby saving her life. By the time he finished, the entire board was sitting perfectly still, mesmerized by his astonishing narrative. 

Admiral Muir was the first to recover in the silence that followed. "I….I honestly don't know what to say. Young man, I have seen some amazing things in my life, heard about even more, but your experiences leave me stupefied! Quite stupefied!" He paused to draw breath. "I'm sure there are more questions to be asked," there was a general nodding of heads, "but I think we can get to those later. For now, you're free to leave, but I would like to see you back here tomorrow morning. Agreed?" 

"Yes, sir," replied Icheb, relieved to be allowed to go so soon. "I'll be here." 

"Excellent. The board is now in recess." 

Everyone rose, chatter breaking out as they began to move towards the exit. Icheb hesitated, unsure just what he should do next. To his surprise, the first admiral, whose name he'd learned was Perkins, came toward him with a warm smile on his face. 

"I would like to apologize for being so rude to you earlier on. I….it's a long story. I hope you can forgive me." 

Icheb was genuinely surprised. "Yes, sir, of course." 

"Are you busy now, or would you care to join me for lunch? I'd like very much to hear more about your people. The Brunali, is that correct?" 

"Yes, it is. Thank you, I would like that." 

"Excellent. Come this way." 

The two headed out the door, as Muir watched, relieved. Like everyone else, he had been far more moved by Icheb's story than he had let on. Aware of his hopes, he resolved to light a fire under the Admissions office of the Academy. They would be completely insane to let such a promising candidate get away. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

While Icheb was testifying before the board, Samantha decided now was a good time to fulfil a promise she had made to an old friend. Along with Neelix, Joe Carey had been one of her closest friends on the ship. His death had hit her hard, especially in light of their return to the Alpha Quadrant so soon afterwards. 

Several years earlier, right after the altercation with the Hirogen when she and Naomi had come very close to dying, she and Joe had promised each other that in the event of the death of one of them, the survivor would visit the other's widowed spouse. 

She remembered the evening well. They had enjoyed a quiet dinner, as they often did, and Joe had read to Naomi until the child finally fell asleep. Neelix had popped in for a while and the three had chatted about several random topics, staying away from discussing the terrible abuses they had suffered. After he had left, Joe and Samantha had fallen silent, each lost in thought, trying to come to terms with all that had happened. It was then that Joe had voiced his idea. She never knew what prompted it, although she could guess. It made sense, and she had agreed at once. 

As the years passed, and it seemed more and more sure that Voyager would return to the Alpha Quadrant, their promise had been put aside, not forgotten precisely, but not likely to be needed. 

And then, suddenly, he was gone. No goodbyes, no last words for his family – just gone in a burst of phaser-fire. 

Sam recalled all too well the first paralyzing horror she had felt when she heard the news. She kept thinking there must have been a mistake, that it couldn't have been Joe, not after all this time. Only when she actually saw his body in sickbay was she able to accept that it was true. Joe wouldn't make it home. And she had a promise to honour. 

After considerable effort, Sam located Sarah Carey and her sons, Hunter and Joey, in an older part of Los Angeles. At first, she was hard-pressed to recognize her. The woman on the screen bore little resemblance to the laughing figure in Joe's holoimage. That person had been full of life and joy, her pride in her handsome family evident. This sad, bitter creature staring at her couldn't be the same person, could she? 

She repeated her question. "Are you Sarah Carey, Joe's widow?" 

The woman nodded, unsmiling. "Yes," she replied shortly. "Who are you?" 

Sam took a deep breath – this wasn't going to be easy. "My name is Samantha Wildman. I served with Joe on Voyager. He and I were friends, good friends. I was hoping I might be able to visit you." 

She tried to sound friendly, but the other woman wasn't giving an inch. 

"Why?" 

"It was something Joe asked me to do, if anything ever happened to him. I promised him I would try to find you. He made the same promise to me, to contact my husband if I didn't get home." 

Sam saw Sarah relax slightly at the mention of 'husband'. She went on. "When would be a good time for me to come and see you?" 

"Well…..I guess tomorrow would be okay. It's my day off." 

"Good. I'll come by in the morning." 

She signed off, wondering what on earth she was getting into. It struck her that something here did not add up. Well, whatever it was, she would find out soon enough. 

With Naomi in tow, Sam set off via public transport for Los Angeles shortly after breakfast. She hadn't planned to bring the child, but had decided that perhaps Naomi could help break the ice, maybe make conversation a little easier. She also had with her several holoimages taken over the years on the ship. Possibly Joe's family would like to have them. 

Finding Sarah's place took some time as they worked their way through a rundown, seedy neighbourhood. Sam hung onto Naomi's hand tightly as they walked down yet another street littered with bits of trash, and with several dubious looking characters propped up in doorways, watching them pass. Finally they came to a four-story apartment building in need of a coat of paint, and with a few weeds near the door masquerading as a garden. 

They climbed up two flights of stairs, then down a dimly lit hall to number 304. The door opened before she could ring the chime. "Ms. Wildman?" asked the woman standing there. 

"Yes. I'm Samantha Wildman, and this is my daughter, Naomi." 

"I'm Sarah Carey. Please come in." 

Sam was relieved to find Sarah somewhat more cordial than the day before. 'Perhaps I caught her by surprise yesterday', she thought. 'That would explain it. It doesn't look as though she's had an easy time.' 

They followed Sarah into the living area and sat down. A bouncing puppy tried to climb up on their laps, before his mistress retrieved him and shut him away in another room. "Sorry," she apologized. "He isn't very well trained as yet." 

Sam smiled and began. "Thank you for seeing us. Naomi and I were very fond of Joe. He was a good friend to both of us. We wanted to meet you, maybe tell you something about his life on the ship, if you'd like. He talked about you and the boys so much, I feel as though I know you." 

Sarah sat forward stiffly. "I….I'm sorry, I find this difficult. You see, you and Naomi are the first ones from the ship to come and visit me." 

Samantha was shocked. "You mean nobody else has come?! Not one?! But – that seems very surprising! I would have thought Captain Janeway would have been in touch….." Her voice trailed off at the look of anger transforming Sarah's face. 

"Don't speak that woman's name to me! It's all her fault!" 

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Sam was very puzzled, but tried to keep her voice calm. Beside her, she could feel Naomi tense at the fury in Sarah's voice. She put a hand on her arm, stilling her. 

"Surely I don't have to explain it to you! That woman was responsible for getting you all stuck out there in the first place! And then, she got my Joe killed!" 

"No, that isn't true. I don't know where you've heard that, but it's not. Granted, it was her decision to destroy the Caretaker's Array which led to our exile in the Delta Quadrant, but she was – is – the captain. It was her decision to make. We never questioned her on that, none of us. Well, almost none of us," amended Sam, remembering rumblings among the Maquis. 

She continued, "And as for the mission when Joe died? He volunteered to replace Lieutenant Torres. She was well along in her pregnancy, and the doctor was concerned about her leading an away mission. Joe said he would go, that it had been too long since he'd been off the ship anyway, and he wanted a change of scene. I'm not sure the captain even knew until afterwards that he was on the away team. Please don't blame her. She felt dreadful, you know. At the funeral service, she was in tears. I wondered if Commander Chakotay would have to take over. And the captain is a tough woman, you know. She never cries." 

Sarah looked doubtful, but let the argument go. "Tell me about Joe. How he lived, what he did in his spare time, what he was like." She bit her lip, fighting back tears, then straightened her spine. "I have so little of him from the last years of his life. It's like….being married to a stranger, almost!" 

Before Sam could move, Naomi was at Sarah's side, one hand on her knee. She peered earnestly up into her face. "You know what I remember best about Joe, Mrs. Carey? Every time I saw him, he would smile at me. He had such a nice smile, didn't he?" 

Sarah stared down at the little girl in surprise. "Yes, he did," she replied softly. "Did you know him well?" 

"Oh yes, he would often come and play with me, read me stories – that was his favourite, or just talk to me about Hunter and Joey. He missed them a lot, you know." 

Sam interjected gently. "Joe often said that being with Naomi made the separation from his own children a little easier to bear. He would bring her little presents sometimes, things he'd made when he was off-duty. You remember that beautiful toy shuttle, Naomi? He spent hours building it for her – said he felt closer to his boys while he was making it. And when Naomi was still very small, he would babysit for me every Thursday night so I could have a break, go out with some of the other crew. He said I shouldn't be expected to spend all my down time with the baby. He was so kind that way. Sometimes, I wouldn't even go out, we'd just have dinner and talk instead. He was a very easy person to talk to." 

Sarah nodded wistfully. Now, Sam could see traces of the woman she had known from Joe's holoimage. She reached into her bag. "I brought some holoimages from when we were on the ship. I thought you might like to have them." 

The other reached for them eagerly. "Ohh, these are wonderful! Thank you." 

Sam cleared her throat, not sure if she should broach the topic on her mind, and yet, she figured Joe would want her to. 

"Sarah, I get the feeling that your life has been pretty hard while we were gone. Harder than it should have been. Is that right?" 

"Perhaps, I don't know." She sighed heavily. "A little over a year after Voyager disappeared, Starfleet suspended the search for her and declared her officially lost. I couldn't accept that. I couldn't believe that she wasn't out there somewhere, crashed on a planet maybe, her crew stranded, whatever. If we had known anything, no matter how awful, maybe I could have dealt with it better. But the uncertainty, the not knowing – Samantha, you have no idea how that can eat at your soul! So I kept the search going, using up all the credits I had, and borrowed more, until finally even I had to stop. We'd never had a lot, but we were comfortable. Now? Well, we're managing, but credits are tight, you know. All of Joe's back pay went towards repaying a debt, but it wasn't enough. I still owe quite a bit." She fell silent for a moment, as if debating whether to go on, but clearly the need to finally unburden herself to another adult won out over her reserve. 

"I guess, in hindsight, I was a little foolish. You see, I borrowed a lot, over a hundred thousand credits, from some rather unscrupulous individuals. When I was late with one repayment….." she paused. "Well, let's just say they weren't very nice. I know most people would have given up, but – Samantha! He was my husband, the father of my boys! I couldn't just abandon him, could I!" 

Sam was appalled. "Sarah! That's dreadful! Hasn't Starfleet helped you at all?!" 

"No. They didn't seem very interested. Told me if I kept searching, it was on my own time and credits. They wouldn't take any responsibility for it." 

"That's outrageous!" Sam was quite indignant. "Does anyone else know about this?" 

"No." 

Sam sat lost in thought. "There must be someone who could do something. Let me think about it." She looked at her hopefully. "Would you let me tell the captain?" 

But Sarah's face closed down. "No, I don't want her knowing, feeling sorry for me, for us." 

"Sarah, she wouldn't, really. I know she'd want to….." She stopped at the look on the other's face. "All right, I won't contact her if you would rather I didn't." 

"Thank you." 

"We have to go now, but I'd like to see you again. We're sort of at loose ends at the moment, waiting until my husband can come back." 

"I'd like that, yes." Sarah smiled shyly. 

"Good. How about next week?" She and Naomi rose as she spoke. 

"I'll be here." 

They reached the door, and Sam turned. On impulse, she hugged Sarah gently. "Don't worry. Everything will be all right." 

"Thank you, Samantha. And Naomi, thank you, too. I wasn't sure I wanted to meet you, but I'm so glad I have. I feel a lot better now." 

They waved goodbye, then picked their way carefully through rubbish-strewn streets back to the transport station. Both breathed a big sigh of relief once they returned to San Francisco. 

As they walked back to their quarters, Naomi began to talk. "Mom, Mrs. Carey doesn't seem to like the captain, does she?" 

"No, she doesn't. I think she's wrong, but there isn't too much I can do beyond telling her. I hope, in time, she'll come to see that." 

"She sure doesn't look like her holoimage, does she?" 

"No, and that's sad. She's had a hard time since we were lost, you know." 

"Yeah, she looks a lot older than I thought she would." 

"I think, if we can help her out, that maybe she'll start to feel better again. And she'll look more the way she did when we left." 

"I hope so." Naomi was distracted by a welcome sight. "Look! There's Icheb! Come on." She dashed forward, anxious to hear all about her friend's day and to tell him about hers. Samantha sighed gratefully. Despite all the ups and downs of their life in the Delta Quadrant, she was beginning to think she had had an easier time of it than Sarah Carey. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Another seven weeks passed – much too slowly for Sam, although Naomi was enjoying having her mother's undivided attention. It had been over five months now since they had returned, and still her poor husband was stuck way out near the Neutral Zone, or somewhere anyway. She wasn't even sure where anymore. 

Ye gods! How much longer could these negotiations take, anyway? If these people had been in the Delta Quadrant, they would have been either assimilated, or blown into a thousand pieces long ago! Voyager had never had the luxury of prolonged discussions. It had always been either agree to terms as expediently as possible, or take off at maximum warp because the alien of the moment was making every attempt to blow them out of the sector. 

Sam was trying very hard to remember that they were no longer in the Delta Quadrant and that she would have to reaccustom herself to the Federation way of doing things. But her patience was wearing thin. 

Finally, Icheb finished his testimony and was dismissed with the proviso that he keep himself available in case the board wished to question him further. That evening, Sam suggested they celebrate with a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant. All three had a most pleasant meal, although Icheb was somewhat stumped by spaghetti – he asked several times just why Naomi would wish to eat something that was so messy and difficult to handle. 

Naomi, trying rather unsuccessfully to stop pasta sauce from dripping down her chin, declared it was fun – and wasn't that reason enough. Icheb shook his head, but refrained from further argument. 

They returned to their quarters to find a message from Starfleet Command. All three groaned, sure that it was from the review board with more questions. But they were to be surprised. An unknown lieutenant addressed them in a pre-recorded message. 

"Ensign Samantha Wildman, Naomi Wildman, Icheb. My name is Lieutenant Anderson, aide to Admiral Cogley, head of the Institute of Starfleet History at New Stanford University. As you may have heard, the USS Voyager is to be retired with full honours. However, in light of its extraordinary journey, the ship will not be scrapped but will instead be rededicated as a living museum, one in which visitors can participate in interactive tours of the ship as well as some of the events which you experienced. To this end, we are asking each member of the crew to make available to us every scrap of data that he or she is able to locate. Official logs, reports, personal logs if possible, particular memories – whatever you can do. We want to make this as detailed and accurate a representation as possible of what life was like for those seven years in the Delta Quadrant. We want everyone to know just what an amazing group of people you are. Starfleet believes that, in this way, we can best honour all your achievements. 

"I will act as the liaison between the crew and the Institute. If you have any questions, please contact me. I am looking forward to getting to know all of you individually. Thank you for your time. Anderson out." 

Sam, Naomi and Icheb sat and stared at each other in stunned silence. It had never occurred to any of them that the ship might be decommissioned and certainly not that it would be turned into a museum, living or anything else. 

"Mom?" Naomi was the first to find her voice. "Do we have to tell them everything? I mean like the time I set the forest on fire in Flotter's program? Or when Neelix got sick and thought he was in a war and I was hurt? Remember? When we found that memorial thing? Or how scared I was when you were trapped in that asteroid? Do we have to tell them all that?" She didn't sound too happy. 

"Well, I guess so. That's what this Lieutenant Anderson says, doesn't he?" 

"Ye…yes." 

"Don't you want to talk about those times?" 

"No. I only want to talk about the good times. About playing with Seven and Icheb and Mezoti, and when the captain let me be her assistant, and stuff like that." 

Sam looked at her daughter carefully. She seemed rather uncomfortable. "Naomi, for most of our journey, you were the only child on the ship. And I think most people would really like to know about what you did and how you felt, in the bad times as well as the good. You were in a very unusual position. Children especially will want to be able to experience life on Voyager the way you did. They'll want to know what it was like, growing up as the only child, not having any friends to play with, all those things. They're going to ask how you felt. Did you like it? Were you ever scared? Did you have to go to school? All sorts of things. Do you understand what I'm saying?" 

Naomi nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess so." 

Icheb leaned forward. "I'll help you, Naomi. After all, we did lots of things together after the others left. And maybe you could help me, too. I'm not very good at – telling a story, making it interesting for people. Perhaps you could write it so it sounds more exciting." 

She grinned at him, suddenly much more enthusiastic. "Sure, I can do that." She turned to her mother. "When do we start?" 

Sam smiled at her eagerness. "No time like the present. Here, let's each get a PADD. Maybe if we start with one event and see how each of us remembers it." 

"Okay. Which one?" 

"How about the Antarean race when Tom and B'Elanna nearly blew up the second Delta Flyer?" 

They continued long into the night, way past Naomi's bedtime, as one topic led to another. Finally Samantha happened to catch a glimpse of her chronometer. 

"Good heavens, look at what time it is! Naomi, off to bed at once!" 

"But Mom….!" 

"No buts! It's my bedtime, for goodness' sake! Now, off you go, miss. We'll have lots of time to work on this. We don't have to finish tomorrow, you know." 

Icheb rose as well. "Come on, Naomi. Goodnight, Samantha. See you tomorrow." 

"Goodnight, Icheb," called Sam, gathering up the PADDs. "Sleep well." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Another eight weeks went by. The three had fallen into a routine now. Half the day, usually the mornings, would be spent on Naomi's lessons. Sometimes, these would take the form of field trips to one place or another, in which case they might be gone all day. Samantha and Icheb took turns accompanying Naomi on these outings, although occasionally, if the trip was to somewhere really significant, they would both go. On those days when she stayed behind, Sam worked on her notes and logs, writing official reports on the various projects in which she had been involved. 

By the same token, Icheb spent all his spare time preparing as if he had been accepted at the Academy. He was currently involved in a detailed study of the history of the Federation and all the various worlds and races with which it was comprised. 

If their afternoons were free, they would go off on an expedition somewhere for fun. Once a week, Sam and Naomi would go to visit Sarah Carey and her sons. Sam had tried unsuccessfully to get Sarah to bring the boys to San Francisco, but she seemed reluctant and Sam hadn't pushed the issue. 

Evenings were often spent working on the museum project. All three were amazed by how much their memories varied when recalling the same incident. PADD after PADD was filled with their recollections, supplemented by portions of their personal logs. Inevitably, Seven's name came up often – she had been so close to both Naomi and Icheb. At first, he seemed to withdraw from the conversation when she was mentioned, but later, Sam noticed that he seemed much more comfortable talking about her. 'Thank goodness', she thought. 'He's getting past her.' 

And then their lives changed again. They had all been to Paris that day to tour the great art museum at the Louvre, and had just come in the door, laughing over Icheb's run-in with a French waiter at a sidewalk café, when Naomi spotted the message light on the console flashing. 

"Mom," she called. "There's a message. Shall I open it?" 

"Sure," replied Sam from the bedroom. "I'll be right out." 

The girl activated the terminal to see an admiral's stern face filling the screen. "This is a message for Icheb formerly of the starship Voyager. I am Admiral Paxton, head of Starfleet Academy." The man paused for a moment. 

"Icheb!" shrieked Naomi. "Come quick! It's the Academy!" 

Icheb scurried out of his room faster than Naomi had ever seen him move before. 

The admiral continued. "I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Academy as a first-year cadet. You will begin your studies in two weeks at the start of the next term. Report to the Admissions office as soon as possible for a list of your course requirements, and for your room assignment. Welcome to the Academy, Cadet. Paxton out." 

Sam had come into the room at Naomi's cry. Now she turned to the boy and hugged him. "Icheb! This is wonderful news! I'm so pleased for you!" 

Naomi jumped up and down excitedly. "This is great! You can tell me all about it so I'll know what it's like when I'm old enough to go!" 

Icheb stood silently with an enormous grin covering his face from ear to ear. Suddenly, as if he couldn't control himself, he grabbed Naomi and swung her around in glee. "It's true! I'm going to be in Starfleet!" 

The others laughed as he set Naomi back on her feet. Sam had an idea. "Let's have a party – to celebrate! All your closest friends from the ship! Would you like that?" 

"Yes, indeed I would." 

Naomi chimed in. "That's a wonderful idea, Mom! We've hardly seen anyone!" 

"I know, dear. It's been so difficult, with a quarter of our crew imprisoned, the rest scattered who knows where, and all of us under orders to minimize contact with each other. But we're past that now, thank goodness." She reached for a PADD. "All right. To business. We'll start by making a list of who we want to come….." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The following morning, Naomi and Icheb sat working on the latest set of quantum physics problems he had devised for her, while Sam went about contacting their shipmates. 'Might as well start with the captain', she thought, composing a short message to be routed through the Personnel office at Headquarters, and promptly got a shock when the computer politely informed her that Captain Janeway had become Admiral Janeway. Her exclamation of surprise caught Naomi's and Icheb's attention and they quickly moved behind her to see what had prompted her bemused expression. 

Naomi was the first to recover. "Hey, Mom, that's great! Do you think I can get promoted to Admiral's Assistant?" 

Sam chuckled. "I guess you'll have to ask her, honey. That's a pretty high-ranking position, you know." 

Icheb frowned. "Now that we are on Earth, wouldn't the cap- admiral already have an assistant, possibly several?" 

Naomi looked worried. "You mean she might not need me anymore? But…" her voice trailed off uncertainly as once more the realities of their return crashed over her. She turned away but not before Sam caught the glint of tears. 

"Honey," began Sam, "maybe the admiral does have lots of assistants here on Earth, but she might be willing to make a special place for you. Don't jump to conclusions until you've had a chance to talk to her. The captain, uh admiral – this is going to be hard to get used to – has always had a soft spot for you. Give her a chance, okay?" 

The child nodded, her face clearing, before turning back to the puzzle of quantum physics. 

Sam worked her way down the list – the Parises, and the baby of course, Commander Chakotay – question mark, Crewman Tal Celes if she hadn't gone back to Bajor, the doctor – another question mark. Then there were the Careys. She really wasn't sure how well they would fit in, simply because inevitably the talk would turn to the Delta Quadrant. On the other hand, they might enjoy listening to the personal reminiscences. Well, she would have to think about that. Let's see, who else? Oh yes, Gerron, mustn't forget him. 

That particular friendship had caught Sam by surprise, she remembered. Icheb and Gerron – on the surface, it had seemed that the two could have nothing in common. However, when she'd thought about it, she realized that both were quiet, unassuming individuals who much preferred to listen to Bajoran fugues or play chess than indulge in vigorous games or noisy parties. 

While she organized her notes, in the back of her mind, she pondered what to do about Seven 

There was no doubt Icheb had been closest of all to her, but Seven's treatment of him in those last days before they all were separated had been almost cruel. In her apparent hurry to take off with Chakotay, she had brushed him aside, as if he were the merest acquaintance. Sam had gotten to know him pretty well, and she knew that he had been badly hurt, a lot more than he had let on. No, she thought, she didn't want Seven around upsetting him again. Which would mean that she wouldn't be inviting Chakotay either. Oh well, better to have a smaller guest list than risk more hurt feelings. 

Her console beeped with an incoming message. She activated it to see Admiral Janeway's smiling face. 

"Sam! How nice to hear from you! How are you?" 

"I'm well, thank you, _Admiral_." Sam grinned at her. "We're all very pleased to hear of your promotion. Congratulations!" 

"Thanks, Sam. That's very kind of you. Now, how's my assistant? Is she enjoying getting to know her dad? How does she like Earth?" 

"She's fine, and she likes Earth very well. Unfortunately, my husband hasn't been able to come back yet." 

"Not yet?! Good lord, Sam, it's been seven months! What on earth is he doing?!" 

"I wish I knew. The Diplomatic section is very vague about his activities – they just keep saying he's involved in delicate negotiations and can't leave. It's getting very frustrating, as you can imagine." 

"I'm sure it is. Would you like me to see if I can do anything?" 

"Certainly, if you wish, Admiral. I'd be grateful for any help. But that isn't why I called. Icheb has been accepted into the Academy and I'm having a little party for him next week to celebrate. We're hoping you can come." 

"Oh, that's wonderful! He must be very pleased! Yes, I'll be there, you can count on it. Can I speak to him? I'll get Chakotay – he'll want to congratulate him, too." 

"The Commander is with you??!" Sam squeaked, utterly astonished. 

"Yes," grinned Janeway almost smugly. "He and I – well, we found our way to each other, Sam. And I'm very happy. I know he is, too." 

Sam stared at her, then shook her head, a smile breaking across her face. "That's great, Admiral, just great! I am really, really happy to hear that! Please tell him that I hope he will come, too. I'll fetch Icheb." 

While the latter was exchanging greetings and congratulations with the admiral and commander, Sam went to fill in Naomi on the latest news. Quantum physics was pushed aside as they speculated about what could have possibly happened with Seven. 

"You know what, Mom? Maybe they just couldn't find much to do together, away from the ship, I mean. Do you think that was it?" 

"Could be, honey. I guess we'll never know." 

"I hope she's all right," murmured Naomi. "She's still my friend. Even though she was mean to Icheb, I don't think she meant to be. Do you think we'll ever see her again?" 

"I don't know, maybe." 

"I hope so." 

They were interrupted by Icheb, who came in to say that the admiral needed to know the day and time of the party. 

Sam was kept busy the rest of the morning talking to various members of the crew. The only one who refused was Sarah Carey, who stated bluntly that she just couldn't feel comfortable yet around Voyager's crew. She hoped Sam would understand. The latter had nodded her head and promised to see her the following week as they had scheduled. 

By lunchtime, plans for the party were finalized and Sam was able to spend a pleasant afternoon with Naomi and Icheb, enjoying a stroll through Golden Gate Park. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

By the evening of the appointed day, Naomi was nearly bouncing off the walls with anticipation. Sam called her several times to come and help with various preparations, but the child was too excited to concentrate on how to set out the assorted hors d'oeuvres and delicacies which Sam had replicated. 

"Naomi!" she finally shouted in exasperation. "They're not going to get here any faster because you have your nose glued to the window!" 

"I know, Mom, it's just I want to see them so badly!" 

Sam shook her head in defeat. "You've missed them a lot, haven't you?" 

"Yes, I …..Mom! They're here!" She flew to the door, yanking it open, and tore out to throw her arms around Kathryn Janeway in a big hug. 

"Captain! Oops! – I mean Admiral! I'm so glad to see you!" Naomi was ecstatic, her face one big grin from ear to ear. 

Kathryn held onto her for another minute. "I'm very glad to see you, too. I've missed you so much, all of you. And you know, while it's just us, I think I'd prefer it if you called me captain. I'd feel a lot more comfortable." 

Naomi's smile got even wider. "Okay. And can I still be your assistant, even if you really are an admiral now?" 

Kathryn hugged her again. "You bet you can, sweetheart. I don't know how I've managed without you." 

Naomi laughed with relief as Chakotay called from behind. "Hey! Don't I get a hug, too?" 

She was a little uncertain how to react. The last time she had seen him, he had had eyes only for Seven. Now, here he was with the captain. He read her expression easily and held out his hand. 

"Please? I know I didn't say goodbye to you properly, but it's still me and I've missed you." He gave her his special smile, the one she was quite unable to resist. She took his hand and let him swing her up into his arms, hugging him tightly around the neck and whispering into his ear how glad she was to see him with the captain. He whispered back that he was glad, too. 

Meanwhile, Kathryn had stepped forward to greet Sam and Icheb affectionately, her joy and pride in his accomplishment evident in her sparkling eyes and delighted smile. Sam was struck by how much more relaxed and warm her captain had become. When Kathryn turned to reach for Chakotay's hand, leading him forward, Sam knew why. This woman had found her way home in more ways than one. 

Before they could all step inside, Tom and B'Elanna Paris, laden with baby and bags, trooped up to the door. More hugs and exclamations were exchanged as everyone slowly made their way inside. Tal Celes, with Harry Kim in tow, was the next to arrive, again to everyone's surprise. 'Very few had seen the potential for that romance' ran through Sam's head as she bustled about getting her guests settled. And just a few moments later, Gerron appeared, looking much happier and more relaxed now that the 'Maquis business' was finally settled. With the doctor's arrival shortly after, their numbers were complete. 

The room bubbled with talk and laughter as everyone tried to tell everyone else about all the changes in their lives since they had gotten home. Naomi was in her element, darting about trying to hear all the conversations at once. 'She's really missed them', thought Sam sadly. 'I hadn't realized how hard it's been for her. Icheb, too, look at him – more excited and animated than I've ever seen him.' 

She felt a presence at her elbow and looked up to find Chakotay smiling down at her. "You look pensive, Sam." 

"I was just thinking." She nodded toward Naomi and Icheb. "Those two look happier than I've seen them since we landed. I keep forgetting that Voyager was their home." 

"It was home to all of us for a long time." He sighed slightly. 

"Commander?" she ventured softly. "How is Seven? I think they both would like to know, Naomi anyway." 

"As far as I know, she's fine." He bit his lip, looking down for a moment. "It wasn't going to work, Sam. In hindsight, it's obvious. I guess, those last days on the ship, I wasn't seeing very clearly. And then, well, it's a long story that I won't bore you with. Suffice to say, that I was able to put all the past aside and find Kathryn again. And we're very happy." 

She smiled gently. "I'm very glad for you both. I think you were always meant to be together, you know. That's what the crew used to say. We understood all the reasons why you couldn't be, in the Delta Quadrant, but I can't imagine anyone not being delighted now." 

"Thanks, Sam, that means a lot." 

His attention was caught just then by a shout of laughter from B'Elanna, and he said no more. 

Shortly after, Kathryn got up, following Sam into the kitchen. "Sam, I wanted to tell you. I talked to Starfleet, then worked my way through several back doors into the Diplomatic Office. I don't know for sure, but I think your husband is going to be free pretty soon. I told them that in this day and age, there really is no reason for him to be tied down out there for so long. I have a feeling there are some power politics being played behind the scenes, but of course, no one will admit anything. Anyway, once I explained who I was and just why I was so interested in his whereabouts, the tune changed quite dramatically. I'm very hopeful that you'll be seeing him shortly." 

Sam was ecstatic, her face wreathed in smiles. "Admiral, that's the best news I've had in – I don't know how long! Thank you so much! I couldn't get any answers at all beyond vague platitudes and pats on the head. Do you think it's safe to tell Naomi? She's been quite anxious and all this waiting hasn't helped the situation." 

"Hmm," the admiral was hesitant, "maybe not just yet. I wouldn't want to get her hopes up too high in case something else goes wrong." 

"Then I won't." 

Just then, they were called back into the main room by Tom Paris, who announced that he wished to propose a toast, several in fact. However, before he could begin, the doctor neatly cut him off. 

"Fellow crewmembers," interposed their favourite hologram, rising to his feet "before Mr. Paris gets started, I wanted to say a few words to honour our captain." 

Tom sat back, prepared for a lengthy speech, but to his and everyone else's surprise, the usually longwinded doctor kept his remarks short and to the point. 

"I imagine by now that everyone here is aware of the captain's promotion. But, as this is the first time we've been together since that happy occasion, on behalf of the entire crew, I would like to offer our sincere congratulations. To Admiral Kathryn Janeway, the best captain any ship could ever have." 

"Hear, hear!" echoed from different parts of the room, as everyone rose to their feet. 

Kathryn smiled and thanked them, then called on Tom to continue with what he had been about to say. He nodded to her and remained standing as the others sat down. 

"Raise your glasses, folks. First, I want to congratulate Icheb on his admission to the Academy – and remind him not to spend all his time with his nose in his books. There's more to life than quantum mechanics." 

"And you should know," came irreverently from B'Elanna. 

"Thanks, dear. You're a never-ending pillar of support," retorted Paris, before going on. "Next, to our captain, pardon me – _Admiral –_ and commander who have finally settled my betting pool. Too late for me to cash in, mind you, but there you are." 

"Who won, just out of curiosity?" asked Harry. 

"Now that's the funny thing. It was Kes." 

"You're kidding! Really?" 

"Yeah. Of course, she was telepathic. Guess she knew something the rest of us didn't." 

"Dear Kes," reminisced Kathryn. "I still miss her." 

"I think we all do," replied Chakotay softly. 

"Three more, then someone else can have a turn. To my best friend Harry and the new love of his life, Celes. B'Elanna and I are so very pleased that you have found each other." 

"Hear, hear," was heard again throughout the room, as the pair tried unsuccessfully not to blush. 

Tom continued. "To those members of our crew who are now finally free to go on with their lives without having to look over their shoulders. I give you – the Maquis." 

The three from the Liberty all looked a little surprised at that one – Chakotay wondered if Paris was rather putting Kathryn on the spot, but she seemed comfortable enough, raising her glass without hesitation. He decided he was overreacting. 

"And finally, the most important of all. Please raise your glasses to our ship and her crew. The best that ever was or ever will be. To Voyager." 

They all rose and repeated his words. "To Voyager!" 

As everyone settled back in their seats, Kathryn rose to her feet. 

"Tom, that was very well done. Thank you. I have a toast as well. To this family, our Voyager family. We have shared so much together and forged ties that will never be broken. Icheb, remember this when you are at the Academy. You have a family to support you – all of us. And we will be there whenever you need us. To our family." 

Again, they all stood. "Our family." 

As they sat once more, Icheb remained standing. He looked around at each face, remembering how he had first encountered them, how they had taken him in and made him part of their whole. And then he smiled, a very rare Icheb smile. 

"Thank you for all your good wishes. These last weeks, Samantha, Naomi and I have been writing down all our memories for the museum project. And doing that has made me realize, again, how very special all of you are to me. I know I will be representing not only the Delta Quadrant at the Academy, but Voyager as well." He paused, then took a deep breath and straightened to his full height. "I promise you all that I will do my very best to uphold the honour of our ship and her crew." 

"We know you will," replied the admiral. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Two weeks later, a gray, soggy day found Naomi standing at the window, staring out at the rain pouring down in torrents. The wind was gusting hard, at times blowing the rain almost horizontally. The scene matched her mood. Icheb would be leaving the following day for the Academy, and even though, he would be back at the end of term, that was a whole four months away. Might as well be forever, as far as she was concerned. 

Samantha came in to fetch a PADD and noticed her miserable expression. She came over and put her arm around her shoulders. "Don't be sad, honey. He'll be back before you know it." 

Naomi sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's just…..I was thinking, Mom. About how everyone's gone – first Neelix, then all the crew, now Icheb. It kind of feels like we're the only ones left." She looked up at Sam. "You know what I mean?" 

Sam hugged her. "Yes, honey, I feel that way, too. But it will get better, I promise." She sighed and looked out at the drenched landscape. "It's so hard, this waiting. Sometimes, I think we've been waiting forever." She tried to force a laugh, but it came out as more of a sob. 

Naomi didn't answer – there really wasn't anything she could say. After a moment, Sam turned away to retrieve her PADD. The child continued to stand at the window, watching raindrops chase each other down the pane, and trying to swallow the lump in her throat. 

Idly, she noticed a figure scurrying down the street and caught a glimpse of his face as he looked up, apparently trying to get his bearings. 'He looks Ktarean', she thought, pressing her nose against the window to see better, but the man had disappeared. 

'I wonder. No, couldn't be. Mom would have heard something. It was probably just someone running down the street, trying not to get wet.' She went back to watching the raindrops just as the door chime sounded. She heard Sam go to the door and a second later, her exclamation of joy and disbelief. 

As she turned, Sam came into the room, her face alive, leading the same man Naomi had seen in the street. She recognized his coat, and he was Ktarean. Sam called her forward, tears starting to run down her face, barely able to speak. 

"Naomi, this is your father." 

Greskrendtregk stared at her, his face awestruck with wonder. "You are my daughter, my little girl?" 

Naomi nodded solemnly, feeling a bit nervous. He fell to his knees, holding out his hands. She glanced up at Sam, who inclined her head. Slowly the child moved to stand in front of him. 

"You're my father?" Her tone made it a question. 

"Yes," he whispered, tears sliding down his cheeks now as well. "Yes, I am." He didn't move, letting her get used to him. 

She looked him over carefully from head to toe, then broke into a huge smile. "That's good. I've wondered what it would be like to have a father. I think I'll like having you." 

She took his hands, then stepped close and put her arms around his neck, brushing her cheek against his. He hugged her back gently, afraid of frightening her, then looked up at his wife. 

"Samantha, she is beautiful, just as I knew she would be." He stood, holding Naomi's hand and put his other arm around Sam to hug her. "After so long, I have my family." 

A small sound caught Sam's attention and she turned to see Icheb standing in the doorway, looking somewhat uncomfortable. She held out her hand, drawing him to her side. 

"Greskrendtregk, this is Icheb, whom I told you about, from the Delta Quadrant." Now came the bit she hadn't mentioned to him in any of her communications. "He's part of our family, too." 

Greskrendtregk didn't bat an eye, letting go of Naomi to shake Icheb's hand. "I am delighted to meet you. And to know that not only do I have a beautiful daughter, but a handsome son as well. Come, let's sit down, I have so much to tell you, and I'm sure you have even more to tell me." 

He hugged them all again, as they settled down to catch up on the last seven years and all that had happened to them. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

That evening, after Naomi had fallen asleep exhausted from the day, and Icheb had gone to finish his packing, husband and wife sat curled up together on the couch, each holding a cup of tea. 

"I am so lucky to have you back," whispered Greskrendtregk. "All those years – first when I thought I'd lost you, then when they told us you were alive but so far away you might as well be dead. And now, here you are. Oh Samantha, I have missed you! From now on, I'm going to treasure each and every moment I have with you." 

She buried her head in his neck, trying not to cry again. She shouldn't have any tears left. "When times were bad, and they often were, I hung onto my memories of you. I'd tell Naomi over and over, about you, about our life together. Greski, I couldn't have survived if I hadn't had her! And I came so close to not having her. She is a miracle." 

"Indeed she is," he answered, having heard the story of the day of Naomi's birth. 

They remained sitting there, huddled together, relishing the joy of hopes fulfilled. 

Finally, Sam chuckled softly. 

"What?" he asked. 

"I'm just remembering how Neelix always insisted every story has to have a happy ending. And you know what? Ours does."   
  
  
  



	9. Chatter In The Ranks by Saengerin

Chatter In The Ranks Disclaimer: Paramount "tidied up" by shoving everything into the attic and leaving it. We got in there and tried to clear up the mess. The only significant character I created is Anton - the rest appeared (or were at least mentioned) in _Voyager_ over the years.   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Joined by other familiar names and faces, Sue Nicholetti, Ken Dalby, Mortimer Harren and Renlay Sharr (Latent Image and The Fight) reacquaint themselves with life in the Alpha Quadrant. 

Chatter In The Ranks   
_Copyright September 2001 by Saengerin_

In a café on a well-hidden back street of San Francisco, a familiar scenario was being played out. Three women, relatively young and all good-looking, were commanding the attention of the owner, chef, waiters, and the other patrons, simply by their presence. They had taken over a large table, big enough to seat six, and the three spare chairs were piled with shopping bags. The table itself was covered with the remnants of a substantial afternoon tea - plates holding no more than smears of cream and custard and a few stray pastry crumbs; glasses with the dregs of wine lying at the bottom; raktajino cups with stains around the edge. The women were talking cheerfully amongst themselves, seemingly not caring who overheard their conversation. What made the group even more noticeable was that two of the women were so identical in their features that they were immediately identifiable as twin sisters. 

Breaking off in the middle of a statement, the third woman turned to a waiter hovering nearby. "One more round of raktajino, please." 

"Certainly, ma'am," said the waiter. 

The woman turned back to her friends. "And would you believe," she said, continuing a point begun earlier, "that I was actually happy to see her?" 

"Seven years can do strange things to a person, Suse," said one of the twins. "Even make you appreciate your mother-in-law." 

"Seven years obviously didn't teach you that I don't like being called 'Suse,' Jennifer Delaney." 

The other twin spoke, her expression deadpan. "And in seven years, Susan Nicoletti, you haven't learnt that my sister couldn't care less?" The three women broke into delighted laughter. 

"Gods, I've missed you two," said Sue. "Thank goodness Starfleet finally lifted that ridiculous ban!" 

Jenny smirked. "_We've_ been fine." 

"Yeah, I know you have," said Sue, pretending to pout. "They couldn't exactly keep sisters apart, and you had Freddy and Pablo as well. I've been away on my own for five months." 

"You've had Anton," said Megan. 

"All right, yes, I had Tony," said Sue. "But all I could do was tell him what happened - I couldn't discuss it. Tony barely knows you two, the Captain - he knew Joe, and Staadi - but it's hard to talk about Seven and B'Elanna arguing in engineering and putting me in the middle, when he's only ever seen either of them on the newscasts." The mood at the table had grown somber, but it didn't remain so for long. 

Jenny let out a giggle. "Remember when Seven had all those other memories, and the Klingon personality tried to mate with B'Elanna?" 

"Remember B'Elanna's face!" added Sue. 

"Have you seen Seven at all, Sue?" asked Megan, through the laughter. 

Sue became more serious and shook her head. "Not since _Voyager_ docked and we all left. Not in person, I mean." 

"She's been busy, I guess. Stellar cartography is waiting for her input to our analyses - she hasn't turned up yet." 

Jenny looked over her shoulder at the others in the café, then leaned towards the center of the table. "I heard something." 

"You mean, gossip?" asked Sue, with a wry smile. "Jen, when are you _not_ peddling gossip?" 

Jenny checked over her shoulder again. Her hesitancy intrigued her sister and her friend. "I heard…that there was something going on between Seven and Commander Chakotay." 

Sue had been sitting forward in order to hear Jenny's whispers, but at that she sat back sharply, almost knocking a tray of raktajinos out of the hands of the waiter bringing them to the table. "Sorry," she said to him apologetically, then turned back to Jenny. "You're out of your mind. Seven?" 

Megan was equally dubious. "No way," she said. 

"Way," replied Jenny, then shrugged. "At least, that's what I heard." 

"Where did you hear it, Jenny?" asked her sister. 

"Oh, I don't know - around." 

"You're out of your mind," repeated Sue. 

"Or else Chakotay is," muttered Megan. 

"Do you have any proof at all?" asked Sue. 

"Suse, it's a rumor. By definition, rumors have no proof." 

"Evidence then?" said Sue. 

Jenny's face fell. "None that I've heard of." 

Megan smiled. "Well maybe you're wrong, and Chakotay's brains are where they ought to be." 

Jenny grimaced. "We all know where Chakotay's brains can be - and it isn't his cranial cavity." 

Sue frowned a little. "Jen...." 

"Hey - it's the one thing we do have evidence for. Lots of it." 

Sue and Megan tried to look stern, but Sue giggled, setting Megan off. Jenny, as the instigator, tried to stay serious, but she was soon laughing along with the other two. While the women were in this state of hilarity, the door tothe café opened and three men, one tall, beefy and blond, one tall, dark-haired and incredibly handsome, and the last, shorter and darker than either of his friends, walked in. The waiter, looking harried, went up to the men and began to apologize for the lack of seating, but the tall, dark-haired man shook his head and indicated the table of women. The waiter's face immediately took on a look somewhere between envy and pity, and the men made their way to the women's table, led by the dark-haired man. "Looks like you're having fun," he said as he reached the table. Sue looked up. 

"Hey, honey," she said, standing up to kiss him on the cheek. "Tony - this is Jenny and Megan Delaney." 

"Pleased to meet you," said Anton, shaking hands with the twins. He turned to the two men who had come into the café with him. "So, which of you is with which one of them?" 

Freddy Bristow opened his mouth to speak, but Jenny beat him to it. "He's mine," she said, indicating Freddy, as he removed a shopping bag or two and sat down next to her. 

Megan smiled at the third, olive skinned man. "And Ensign Baytart, here," she said, holding out a hand to him, "I've got dibs on him." Pablo smiled back, and sat down next to Megan, an arm around her shoulders. 

"So she's what's keeping you from that assignment you were offered, Pablo?" asked Anton. "He was telling me about a shuttle testing range in Australia," he explained to the rest. 

"Oh, I'll take it," said Baytart. "I've already drafted my acceptance." 

"It's only a short commute between here and Woomera, anyway," said Megan, philosophically. "He'll be able to come back here on weekends - and Australia has some great scenery. I'm looking forward to doing some exploring." 

"I'm planning a trip to Kakadu," added Baytart. "And besides, there should be no danger at all of Harry Kim's clarinet practice waking me up if I'm in the middle of the Australian outback." 

"Well," said Anton, "If a fellow officer's music practice was the worst that happened over a seven year journey, I think you're doing well, Pablo." 

"What about you and Jenny?" Sue asked Bristow. "What will you do while she's with the Stellar Cartography team?" 

"He's had more than afew offers," said Jenny, a gleam in her eye. "Most of them…" 

Bristow interrupted her before she could go on. "I'll be taking what I'm given," he said, a little too forcefully. 

"That's not what I heard," said Megan, with a sly smile. 

Sue looked from Megan to Jenny, and then to Bristow, who was doing his best not to look embarrassed. "This is going to be even better than when he had a crush on Torres, isn't it?" she asked. 

Megan nodded. "Go on, tell her," she said simply. 

Bristow had clamped his lips together as though he was never going to open them again. Jenny, still with an evil gleam in her eye, took a breath, and began. "It's like this - Freddy-fitness-freak here decided to work out on the Academy track the first morning we were back." 

Sue interrupted. "The track is like a fishbowl!" she exclaimed. "The officer's quarters…" 

"Who's telling this story, Sue?" asked Jenny. Sue nodded her head in a silent promise not to talk anymore. "So, anyway," continued Jenny, "the Academy track is something of a fishbowl." Sue grinned, but said nothing. Jenny continued for the benefit of Anton, "the officer's married quarters overlook three sides of the track, and Academy classrooms on the fourth. My honey, here," she said, jabbing the embarrassed Bristow lightly in the ribs, "went running in tight shorts and a tighter shirt, just around 0800, when a whole lot of wives, a few husbands, and a gaggle of first year cadets were all just desperate for some entertainment." 

"And they got it," Megan added, "but of course, that isn't the best bit." She exchanged glances with her sister, then continued. "Apparently, Commodore Salada had a number of requests that Freddy be reassigned as their personal trainer. But the best request came from Mrs Cogley." At the name, Bristow made a show of banging his head on the table. Grinning at him, Megan continued. "When Freddy turned up, totally oblivious, to run the next morning, she came up to him, leading about ten dogs - Setters, Dalmatians, a couple fluffy little Terriers - and asked him to take them all for a run." 

Sue was almost in hysterics by this stage. "So, Freddy," she said, once she had calmed down, and could face Bristow with an almost straight face, "I'm guessing you're not exactly enthusiastic about staying in the city?" 

Bristow shook his head as though it caused him pain. "I just want to get away from Mrs Cogley," he said. 

"And Linda Hayes, and young Brynn Nechayev," added Jenny. 

"Admiral Nechayev's kid?" said Sue in disbelief. "Oh, Freddy - you have no idea what you're doing. Nechayevs do not give up easily!" 

"I'm out of here the next ship that's going," said Bristow. "If Jenny wants to see me, we can meet on Risa." 

"You think I'll be satisfied with that?" asked Jenny. "You can leave, but within reason," she said. "In other words - I want you closer than Risa." 

As something of an outsider in this group of _Voyager_ crew, Anton had remained quiet during this conversation. But at Jenny's comment, he turned to Sue and smiled. "I can understand what Jenny is saying, you know." 

"Well, Utopia Planetia is pretty close," Sue replied. "And it's not like you have to live on Earth, either, Tony." 

"You're working at Planetia?" asked Bristow, glad that the focus had left him. "Design team or construction?" 

"Both, would you believe," said Sue. "I get to follow the designs I work on through to the construction stage. Starfleet wants to try, eventually, to incorporate some of the more," she hesitated, "benign aspects of Borg technology into their designs. Who knows - I may end up bringing a new shuttle or two down to Woomera for you to test, Pablo." 

"And Planetia isn't too bad a commute, either," said Megan. "What do you do, Anton? Amazingly, I've managed to forget." 

"Communications technology - Sue obviously didn't mention it this afternoon." 

"No, she didn't," said Jenny, with a smirk. "We had too much to talk about to mention husbands and boyfriends." The three women laughed. The men exchanged disbelieving glances. 

"Admit it," said Bristow, "You were gossiping, which means you mentioned us." 

"You're awfully certain about that," said Jenny. 

"I've spent seven years on a small ship with all three of you," said Bristow. "I know how your discussions usually degenerate." 

Baytart nodded his agreement, and Anton laughed. "So have you enjoyed the afternoon, honey?" he asked Sue. 

"Absolutely," replied his wife. "We've still got a lot to discuss, but we don't necessarily have to do it today." 

The waiter approached the table cautiously. "Will the gentlemen be having anything?" 

"I wonder if you'd clear the table for us, please," said Anton. "Then bring a carafe each of red and white wine, and new glasses." The waiter nodded and began to gather the dishes. "We'll have drinks here," said Anton to the group, "then go on to dinner, if that's agreeable to you?" He turned to Sue, then to Megan and Jenny. 

"Sounds great!" said Jenny. 

Sue smiled. "You don't mind spending the evening with a group from _Voyager_?" 

"Not if you're with me," said Anton, matching her smile. 

"Don't I have a wonderful husband?" Sue asked the room in general. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The face of the young Bajoran glowed with excitement. "I know a lot of people are going to be disappointed," he said, "but I think it's great! _Voyager_ has been running on whatever Lieutenant Torres could throw together for seven years. It would take forever for Starfleet to refit _Voyager_ to current standards, so why not convert the ship into a museum?" 

"When you put it like that, Dev, it does sound like a good idea," replied Ken Dalby. "Are you going to become the Starfleet spokesperson for the plan?" 

Gerron Dev laughed at his end of the comm signal. "I'll be busy enough with the Academy - besides, New Stanford has its own PR department. I think they can handle it. If the worst they have to deal with is whether the museum orbits Earth or sits in the Presidio, they'll be doing well." 

Dalby grinned back at the young man he'd looked after for almost eight years. He'd come into his own while _Voyager_ had been in the Delta Quadrant. Dalby hated to admit it, but for Gerron, being out there, 75,000 light years from home, had been exactly what he needed. 

"So," said Gerron, "How's Vorik enjoying his visit?" 

"I'll say this for him," replied Dalby, "He's pretty good with a hammer." 

"You and Mariah put him to work? Ken, he's on leave!" 

"He isn't, actually. He's in transit. I don't know what Starfleet's got him doing, but it certainly involves plenty of travelling." 

"It's part of the job, Ken," said Gerron. "And besides, I know I couldn't live planetside for too long anymore. Space got into my veins the last seven or eight years. Did I tell you that third year includes a three-month rotation on a Starbase, or one of the bigger ships?" 

Dalby nodded. "Have you applied anywhere in particular?" 

"The _Enterprise_, of course - everyone applies to her. Other than that, any ship that will have me." 

"Hey, Ken!" Dalby heard from behind him. "When do I get a turn?" Mariah Henley came up behind him and place a hand on his shoulder. "Hi, Dev - how are you?" she said, peering over Dalby. 

"Mariah! I'm great, thanks. How about you?" 

"Okay, Dev," said Dalby, "I'll leave you with Mariah. Have fun at Icheb's party - give our best to everyone." 

"I will. It's been great to talk, Ken. Good luck." 

"You too, kid." Dalby handed the seat at the console over to Mariah, patting her gently on the shoulder before leaving the community hall where the comm link was. He stepped out into the hot, dry sunlight of Ronara Prime. They had been here only a month or so, but the reconstruction teams had already managed to rebuild the community hall and housing for the entire population. Soon they were going to begin modernizing the water and waste systems, and build some extra shelter for the recon teams. Dalby stretched his arms and turned around, looking at all they had accomplished. 

When he had left this planet and this township, eight years ago, to join Chakotay's Maquis cell, he had been morose, lonely, and bitter. When he returned, that same depression threatened to engulf him once again, triggered by the situation in which he found his home; damaged by the Cardassians during the Maquis unrest, the planet lay directly in the path of the invading forces - first the Klingons, then the Dominion. The people had been evacuated by the Federation and the struggling remnants of the Maquis, but the invasion forces had laid the planet to waste. Although the Klingons had paid reparations to the Federation years before, a reconstruction team had not been put together until just after _Voyager_ returned to Earth. It was a civilian operation, and therefore found bureaucratic hurdles slightly harder to jump than if it had been Starfleet. After the trial of _Voyager_'s Maquis had ended, Dalby, hearing of the reconstruction project ready to set out for his home planet, resigned from Starfleet and joined the team. The day the team left Earth he saw Mariah Henley at the transport station - independently, they had both decided on the same course of action. They worked well together, and the project coordinator had swiftly put them in charge of the team working on this particular township - Dalby's hometown, for what it was worth. 

Vorik approached Dalby from the direction of the last unfinished buildings. 

"I've just been talking to Gerron on the comm," said Dalby. "He hopes you're enjoying your vacation." 

"I am, thank you," said Vorik, placidly. "Construction on the final dwelling is almost complete. Beta team is still working." 

"It's good of you to help us, Vorik." 

"I believe there is an appropriate human phrase - a change is as good as a holiday." 

Dalby laughed loudly. "Well, building housing is certainly a change. What is it that you're actually doing, anyway?" 

"A rather sophisticated type of courier, I believe - I carry sensitive messages around the quadrant, and I assure you," Vorik added with a quirk of his eyebrow, "It was not my choice. I will, however, do my duty to Starfleet." 

"I'm not surprised. If you had the choice, what would you do?" asked Ken. 

"As I have not been presented with such an opportunity, it would be illogical to speculate. I am satisfied with my present assignment, however, as it allows me ample space travel, this time within the confines of known space." 

Henley joined the two men as Vorik was finishing his statement. "Well, I'm all for staying within the confines of known space," she said. 

Together, the three friends turned to walk away from the community hall and down the road. On one side, nestled amongst the spindly, gray-green trees were the houses the team had been building. On the other, the ground sloped gently down to a creek that ran down the valley - the main source of water for the township. By the creek, a number of children were playing, enjoying the cool of the water splashing over them, relieving them from some of the planet's dry heat. As the three ex-_Voyager_ crew walked along the road, they were greeted by people sitting by the buildings, and those wandering up the road. "Good talk with Dev?" Ken asked Mariah, as she walked beside him. 

"He's amazing!" said Henley. "His face just lights up when he talks about his studies." 

"I'm glad I'm not in Starfleet anymore," said Dalby. "If I was, I'd have to salute that kid in two years time." 

"Ensign Gerron," mused Henley, affectionately. "Who would have thought Dev would end up as an officer?" 

"I am sure that Commander Tuvok would not have suspected such an outcome at the beginning of our journey," said Vorik. "But I do know that he has a great respect for Gerron." 

Henley laughed and turned to Dalby. "Do you remember - just after those training classes - how Gerron started going to Tuvok for advice about everything? I thought Tuvok would have pushed him away, but he didn't." 

"The Commander values interest and enthusiasm," said Vorik. "That is why he supported Gerron's application to the officer's stream of the Academy." 

"And his acceleration through the program," said Henley, "although he admitted he's worried whether he can finish all the exo-botany courses he needs in only two years." 

"He'll be fine," said Dalby. "He and Icheb did a lot of work the past year or so. He should be all prepared - especially the help they've both had from Seven and Tuvok." 

"Anyone on the ship who could help them did," said Henley. "And the good thing is, with Dev at the Academy, he and Icheb will be there together for a year or so. It's amazing they get along so well." 

"Dev is only four or five years older than Icheb. Most of the rest of us are over thirty by now - or older," added Dalby, with a self-deprecating grin. 

"Much older, Ken," said Henley, smiling and squeezing his hand. 

"They both have scientific intellects," said Vorik, "and both are quite young to be as independent as they have had to be." 

"Dev always had us," said Dalby, "and Sam Wildman is looking after Icheb now." 

"Icheb had 'Mama Seven' before that," said Henley, with a slight grimace. 

Vorik had a questioning look on his face, but Dalby jumped in before the Vulcan could say anything. "Don't, Vorik. Don't get her started on the resident Borg. We'll never hear the end of it." 

"I'm not that bad," said Henley, reaching out and whacking Dalby lightly on the arm. "But you've got to admit…" 

"I don't have to admit anything," retorted Dalby. "To change the subject completely…" 

"Oh, you're so tactful!" interrupted Henley. 

"…I heard from Mike Ayala the other day. Would you believe that the captain and Chakotay are a couple?" 

"Finally!" exclaimed Henley with a grin. 

"You saw this coming?" asked Dalby with amazement. 

"You didn't?" replied Henley, equally surprised. 

"It is a relationship that has great potential for success," said Vorik. Dalby had almost forgotten he was there. Vorik continued, "I am pleased they are now able to pursue it without violating Starfleet protocol." 

Dalby's jaw dropped. "_You_ knew about this?" 

Vorik raised an eyebrow. "Are you of the opinion, Ken, that a Vulcan is unable to recognize a romance occurring, frustrated though that romance might be? I assure you, Vulcans are quite adept at observation of any sort." 

"I'm not going to get into a debate on Vulcan abilities with you, Vorik," said Ken. "I happen to know you'd win hands down. But did everyone know about this except me?" 

"Oh, no," said Henley. "There were a few men who could see it - Paris, Kim, probably Neelix, and possibly Tuvok. But most of them were as blind as you - the women of course, we all knew," she finished with a shrug. That comment earned Henley a light whack from Dalby in return. She grinned and continued. "In any case, the important thing is that they can be happy now." 

"It's all anyone can ask for," said Dalby, with a smile directed first at his friends, and then out over the vista of the beautiful grey-green valley spread out around them. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

When Mortimer Harren saw the announcement on the newscasts that morning, he knew his day was going to be difficult. Not that his students would ask him any questions he was unable to answer, but that his students would be asking questions totally unrelated to their assigned field of study. Harren had often wished that he could limit discussion within the four walls of the lecture theatre to cosmology and nothing more. His students, enthusiastic as they were, always seemed to have other ideas - and this particular news item was guaranteed to get them going. 

As usual, Harren was right. There was an unusual buzz in the lecture hall, and he didn't think it was caused by his scheduled lecture on the Janeway theory of massive compact halo objects - in which he intended, naturally, to strongly critique the theory. He was teaching a doctorate program, so the students restrained their enthusiasm until the end of the lecture - some of them even managing intelligent discussion. Most of them were so starry-eyed over the great Janeway that they accepted her theory at face value. 

The moment the lecture was done, Harren found himself surrounded at the podium. 

"Professor Harren - your old ship is going to be turned into a museum!" 

"Yes. I've been aware of that for some time." 

"How long? It was only announced today!" 

"Starfleet personnel were informed over six months ago," said Harren. "I still have some contacts among my former crewmates." None of his students had left the lecture theatre; those who weren't crowded around the podium were still in their seats, listening eagerly. 

"Well, what do you think about it?" asked one of his best students. 

Harren made a real effort to answer the question. "I haven't thought much about it at all," he conceded. "I'm sure that many people wish the ship could be refitted and reassigned. That may not be possible. In any case, I have been told that _Voyager_'s journey and length of time away from the Federation is unique - it is appropriate that the ship become a seat of learning - even if it will be predominantly there for the purposes of entertaining the ignorant," he finished. 

"Now that's the Mortimer Harren I remember," said a voice from the doorway. Harren turned to look. 

"Telfer," he said, evenly. 

"Harren," replied Telfer. "Good to see you. Are these your adoring students?" 

"I think adoring would be a bit much," said one of the students, "but he does try to teach us." The comment raised a laugh among the students. 

"I teach them," said Harren, deadpan. "If they don't manage to learn anything, it's not my fault." The laugh grew louder. "All right - enough fun. There'll be a quiz sometime next week on massive compact halo objects, and I don't care if you are doctoral candidates." 

The students began to disperse. Harren nodded pleasantly as some of them wished him a good weekend, while Telfer looked on. 

When the last student had left, Telfer asked, "Well, are you ready for lunch? We're meeting the others at the Bulldog Bar." 

"Must we?" asked Harren as he gathered his PADDs together. 

"We're in the middle of New Haven, Connecticut - there's nowhere else to go." 

"The Faculty apparently had a very pleasant dinner last week at the Shamrock…" began Harren. 

Telfer clapped a hand on Harren's shoulder. "Trust me on this one - we're going to the Bulldog." 

"I have to drop these off at my office first," said Harren. 

"That's fine." 

Harren's office was in one of the historic campus buildings. When they reached the statue that stood by the front door, they saw that a red woman's wig, a Starfleet commbadge, and a small model of _Voyager_ had been added to the serious, staid looking visage. Harren shook his head. 

"It's a long-standing tradition," he said. "The undergraduates dress up the Sage Boy to match the seasons, or various current events. Give it a week or two and he'll be holding pompoms and cheering for the Parrises Squares team." 

Telfer smiled. "I guess people really are interested in _Voyager_ - for the kids to go to all that trouble…" 

"They're just mischief makers," said Harren, dismissively. "It means nothing." 

"Marty," said Telfer, using Harren's little known nickname, "They've heard about us - that's got to mean something." 

Harren looked at Telfer. "Why do you care?" 

Telfer shrugged. "It's _Voyager_. It was my life for seven years. I can't just forget it like that," he finished, snapping his fingers for emphasis. 

Having reached his office, Harren stepped inside, dumped the PADDs on his otherwise neat desk, and then replied to Telfer as he stepped back out into the corridor. "What have I got to forget? Five years in the plasma relay room, one near-death experience, and split shifts in astrometrics." 

"Long debates on cosmology with the captain, the occasional evening over a good ale…" added Telfer. 

"And your point?" asked Harren, not unkindly. 

"I'm not sure there is one," replied Telfer. "But I'm sure looking forward to relaxing with a good ale this afternoon. Let's get going." 

"All right," said Harren, following his friend across campus to the student bar affectionately known as the 'Bulldog', after the mascot of the University's numerous sporting teams. 

When Harren and Telfer arrived, Kashimuro Nozawa and William Chapman had already found a table, near one of the bar's few windows. The two men each had a large glass of beer in front of them, and Nozawa was amusing himself in the age-old way of tossing peanuts in the air and attempting to catch them in his mouth. 

"Hey, Kashi!" called Telfer, a grin breaking across his face when Nozawa, turning his head, managed to knock a falling peanut into Chapman's face. 

"Thanks a lot, Bill," said Chapman to Telfer. 

"Any time," replied Telfer. 

Harren reappeared beside Telfer before Billy had even noticed his friend's absence. In his hand Harren held four menus, which he put on the table. "They're bringing our drinks over, Bill," he said, sitting down at the table. "Kash, William, how's things?" 

"Not too bad," said Nozawa. "Keeping busy." 

"You see the news this morning?" asked Chapman. 

"Not only did I see it," said Harren, "But most of my students did, too." He reached for a menu, then looked up. "This is all of us, right?" 

Telfer, who had finally sat down, nodded. "I asked Celes and Harry, but they're busy on Mars, or wherever it is they are." 

"Got a bit of a love nest going, have they?" chuckled Nozawa. 

"Something like that," said Telfer. "All I know is, Celes says she's having the time of her life." 

"Good for her," said Chapman. 

"And what's this I hear about you, Chapster?" asked Nozawa. "Rumor has it, you're hot and heavy with someone," he finished with a wide grin. 

"Wouldn't put it that way," replied Chapman, as a waiter brought drinks for Harren and Telfer. 

Telfer leaned over to Chapman. "Well, spill it." 

"Spill what?" said Chapman, trying to look ignorant. 

"We haven't had a decent piece of dirt on you for years now - not since your date with Seven," said Nozawa. 

"I think what these two are getting at," said Harren, seemingly disinterested, "is that with a rumor going around that you are 'hot and heavy' with someone - and I don't want to know where you found that expression, Kash - you need to explain it, or dispel it." Harren picked up his beer and took a long drink. When he put it back down, he said to Chapman, "Well, out with it." 

"Her name's Rissa." 

"Rissa - pretty name," said Nozawa. Telfer nodded his agreement. 

"We met at HQ…" 

"'Fleet?" asked Harren, eyebrows raised. 

"No, she's a civilian." 

"How long have you been seeing her?" asked Telfer. 

"Hey - what's with the inquisition?" said Chapman. "About four months." 

Nozawa ignored Chapman's complaint. "Fun girl?" 

"Very sweet and lovely," said Chapman defiantly. "And she's unlikely to tear any of my ligaments while we're dancing." 

The other three men couldn't help it. At the reference to Chapman's infamous date, they all burst out laughing. 

"I'm never going to live that one down, am I?" asked Chapman, taking a swig of beer. 

"Not while we're around," Nozawa assured him. 

"Ready to eat?" asked Telfer. "I'll go place the orders if you've decided." Harren, Nozawa and Chapman each made their choices, and Telfer left the table. 

"So, what do you really think of this museum idea?" asked Chapman. 

"Trying to change the subject?" asked Nozawa. "I like it," he continued. "A sort of lasting monument to our seven years of relative isolation…" 

"…bad food,…" added Harren. 

"…Kazon, Vidiians, Hirogen…" said Chapman. 

"…and everything else weird and wonderful,' finished Nozawa. 'Aren't you working on the refit, Chapman?" 

"Oh, yeah," said Chapman. "Ripping out walls here, putting them back there. Demolishing people's quarters is the worst. I sure don't want to be there when someone finds out that their room got turned into an interactive lab or something." 

Harren and Nozawa contemplated the concept for a moment. Harren nodded slowly. "You're right - that could really hurt." 

"Almost as bad as having that Admiral Janeway look at you sadly," said Nozawa. "I'm sorry to say this about the captain, but the Admiral was a scary woman." 

Chapman nodded his head in agreement. "It was like she held your future in her hands. I tried to avoid her…" he trailed off. 

"We all did," said Nozawa. The three men were silent until Telfer rejoined them at the table. 

"Contemplating the meaning of the universe?" he asked. 

Harren looked up. "Something similar. Temporal prime directive." 

"Getting into the heavy stuff, huh?" asked Telfer. "Can't do that with an empty glass." 

Chapman hailed a waiter and ordered another round of drinks, while Harren contemplated just how much things had changed. Two years ago he would never have supported the idea that theoretical debates went better with a little liquid refreshment. Fortunately he'd been shown by Nozawa, Telfer, Chapman and Tal the truth of this apparently long-standing theory. It had made for many a pleasant evening, mulling over the complexities of the universe. 

By unspoken agreement, the table remained silent until the next round of drinks were brought. When they arrived, Nozawa picked up his glass, took a swig, and then looked at his companions. "So - who's going first?" 

"Okay - basic concepts," said Telfer, launching into a form of debate that the group had perfected long before Harren joined them. "The Admiral came from the future and gave us the technology to get back home…otherwise we wouldn't have got back for - how long?" 

"Another fifteen years, I think," said Chapman. 

"But in doing so," continued Telfer, "she gave us - and probably most importantly the captain - all sorts of information about the future that we really shouldn't have." 

"So, what's the problem?" prompted Nozawa. 

"That Admiral…" said Chapman. "She wasn't like the captain I know." 

Nozawa agreed, "I think that's why I avoided her. She looked like Captain Janeway, she talked like Captain Janeway, but she sure didn't act or think like Captain Janeway." 

"What could make her change that much?" said Telfer. 

Nozawa shook his head. "I don't know, but does the word obsessive come to mind?" 

Harren had been silent, but now he spoke. "Obsession and guilt often go together." 

"Since when did you become a psychologist?" asked Telfer. 

Chapman had been staring into his glass, but looked up at Harren's comment and nodded. "Think about it - we've known for years that the captain had some sort of obsession with what happened back at the Caretaker's array. Remember the first Void? She locked herself away for weeks, blaming herself for us ending up in the Delta Quadrant." 

"And for all the people who died," added Nozawa. 

"And what if during that extra fifteen years, someone close to her was killed? That could send someone around the bend," said Harren. 

"To the point of ignoring everything she stands for?" asked Telfer. 

Chapman, Nozawa and Harren exchanged glances, then all nodded at Telfer. Telfer looked back suspiciously. "I wish she hadn't," he said sadly. 

"Don't tell me you're sorry to be home?" asked Chapman incredulously. 

"Of course not!" exclaimed Telfer. "It's just…the Admiral changed the future. And that makes me uncomfortable." 

"Bill," said Harren, reasonably, "look at it this way. You didn't like how the Admiral acted. Now, if this isn't the 'real' future, you're saying that the captain ought to end up like the Admiral…obsessive, depressed…" Harren paused to take a drink from his glass. "It's not my area, but I don't think you can really say that there is a single 'correct' future. If there were, the Doctor would never have got the mobile emitter and been able to leave Sickbay - and think about how many people he wouldn't have been able to save as a result." 

"That emitter is from the 29th century, Bill," added Chapman, "long after the Admiral came." 

"If you look at it that way," said Nozawa, "We haven't been living in the 'real' future for at least four years." 

"I don't know about you," said Chapman, "but my life feels pretty real to me." 

"Fine, you've convinced me," said Telfer, looking utterly unconvinced. 

"The bottom line is this," said Harren. "Temporal theory stinks. Stick to something relatively straightforward, like cosmology or exo-biology." 

"Thanks," said Telfer, as Harren clapped him on the back. "I think I will." A waiter arrived with their food, and once they'd sorted out the orders, Telfer spoke again. "I went to talk to Starfleet Medical today," he said. The others looked up from their plates, obviously interested. "They've had my research proposal for a month now - and they called me in." He stopped. 

"And?" prompted Chapman. 

Telfer's face broke into a grin. "It's been accepted. I've got the next six or so months to do the preliminary work, then I'll ship out on a special research vessel." 

"Hey, that's great," said Nozawa. "Wouldn't you know, the ship's most famous hypochondriac would end up as a medical researcher." 

"Doesn't that make coming home worth it, Bill?" said Chapman. 

Telfer nodded grudgingly. 

"Well, I suppose I have an announcement of sorts myself," said Harren. "I'll teach out this quarter at Yale, then I'm taking up a new job." 

"Where?" asked Nozawa. 

"The Academy." 

"As in Starfleet Academy?" asked Telfer. 

"That surprises you?" responded Harren. 

"Yes, it does," said Telfer. "If you recall, you were one of the first to leave Starfleet when we were given the choice." 

"Oh, I'm not going back into Starfleet - I'll be teaching at the Academy as a civilian. They wouldn't want a lowly crewman teaching their beloved officers-to-be." 

Chapman looked confused. "I thought you enjoyed teaching at Yale." 

"Oh, I do," said Harren, "Apart from the students, of course." The four men all chuckled. "But it's a matter of priority. After all, the Academy really ought to have at least one person on Faculty who is able to critique the Janeway theory," he finished with a grin. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

From her tiny office, Renlay Sharr could see exactly nothing. Her room was in the middle of the building, miles, it seemed, from a window, or any natural light at all. The walls were covered with books and technical manuals, the desk with PADDs and the remnants of the past three days' hurried lunches. Sharr looked at it all in disgust before ordering the lights off. 

It really was no different at all from being on _Voyager_, she told herself as she hurried down the corridor. Small enclosed spaces, no natural light, no visible signs of life except the people around you, most of whom you didn't really want to interact with anyway. Seven years of forced, sterile existence, and then back on Earth, it's just the same thing. Sharr sighed, then took a deep breath as she approached the doors to the boardroom and knocked. 

"Come in - Ah, Ms Sharr. Glad you could make it," said the chair of the board from her place at the other end of the table. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Renlay Sharr, a consultant with our firm. She joined us only a few months ago - for the past seven years she has been on the Starfleet ship _Voyager_." 

"Was that the ship that got lost in the Delta Quadrant?" asked another board member. 

"Yes, it was," Sharr replied. 

"It must have been an interesting experience." 

_Frustrating as all hell_, Sharr wanted to say. Instead she just nodded politely and smiled. 

"Please, Renlay, take a seat," said the Chair. "You may begin your presentation whenever you're ready." 

"Thank you," said Sharr, quickly calling up the visuals she wanted on the projector in the middle of the table. "I've been asked to look at various strategies Galactic Village might be able to use in expanding your business to non-Federation worlds. Firstly, may I say that such expansion appears to me to be a sensible business decision. The Alpha Quadrant has changed immeasurably over the past ten years - relations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire, the Cardassians, even to some extent the Romulan Star Empire, are far more cordial. There is a market out there - I know that because you've told me so in the project brief, and because I can see it for myself. The question is how can we, as Galactic Village, utilize that market efficiently and effectively?" 

Her presentation went well, and by the end of the meeting, Sharr's mood had improved markedly. The board appeared impressed with her work, and in the informal mingling over drinks to which she was invited afterwards, more than one of the board members had hinted at continuing her contract for the duration of the expansion project. Just before she left, the man who had asked the questions about _Voyager_ at the beginning of the meeting approached her. 

"An impressive presentation, Ms Sharr." 

"Thank you." 

"I'm involved in a few other companies with similar interests to Galactic Village - do you know if Starfleet has any intention to explore the Delta Quadrant further, now that _Voyager_ has returned? There must be some lucrative markets in that quadrant." 

"There were cultures we encountered who would be eager to do business," replied Sharr. "I have no idea, however, of what Starfleet is planning to do in the future." 

"Do you have any contacts from _Voyager_ who might have that information? Anyone in Starfleet?" he pressed. 

"No, sir," said Sharr, calmly, "I'm afraid I no longer have any contact with Starfleet. I'm sorry, but I'm unable to help you." She turned away, and got through the door without him pursuing her. She got in the lift and traveled to the company's transport station in the basement of the building. 

She materialized at the closest public terminal, about six blocks from her apartment. There was a breeze coming in off Lake Michigan, and every so often, when she was walking in the shade of a tree, the breeze made it so cold Sharr shivered. She walked a little faster, and by the time she was home, she was comfortably warm in body, and the walk had been the last touch needed to improve her spirits. 

She pottered around the apartment for a while, doing chores, tidying away the dishes that had been left that morning, and it was at least half an hour before she thought to check the message console. She activated it, and was stunned to see, amongst the expected bills and messages from her mother, an official message from Starfleet, and a text message from Captain Janeway. 

Sharr simply looked at the index screen for a few moments before finally opening the message from Starfleet. A young Bajoran lieutenant 'cordially invited' Sharr and up to six guests to the dedication ceremony of the USS _Voyager_ as a museum. It was to be held in six weeks time. As a former crewmember, the lieutenant added, Sharr was also invited to be on board with the rest of the crew when _Voyager_ was flown in from orbit. Before the lieutenant ended the message, she requested that Sharr reply with the names of her guests as soon as possible. 

Automatically, Sharr opened the message from the captain. It had been sent to all crewmembers other than the senior staff, and to a few of the relatives of crewmembers who had died. It was a mass mailing, but in Janeway's inimitable style, it was quietly personal. 

_Voyager was our home for seven years,_ ran the text. _Now, it will house a history of our journey, so that our friends, relatives, and the public may see a little of what we've all been through. Voyager will have one last flight – breaking orbit to land in San Francisco, where she will stand, we hope, for a long time to come. We have been a close family over this time, and Chakotay and I want all the crew of Voyager to join us on the ship for the final flight home. Please come - be assured we will miss you if you do not._

Her mind whirling, Sharr sat in front of the console, then stood and began to pace through her main room. She replicated a glass of water, and gulped it down. She had just finished when her console began to beep. She hurried to answer it, but hesitated for just a second when she reached it. She activated it, and a handsome, dark-skinned face appeared. 

"Noah," she said in relief. 

"Yeah," he replied. "Did you get one too?" 

"The invitation?" she asked. "I did. And a letter from Janeway." 

"Same here." 

Sharr sat down at the chair in front of the console. "Noah, are you going to go?" 

Lessing's forehead furrowed. "I don't know, Renlay. You?" 

"I don't know either," she said. "It's _Voyager_'s last flight - I'd love to be there. But can you imagine the response we'd get? Tar and feathers would be my guess." 

"Keel-hauled at spacedock," added Lessing, with a wry grin. 

"Lynch mob?" returned Sharr, beginning to enjoy herself. 

"Starfleet firing squad…" 

"The captain and her favorite compression phaser rifle?" 

"All right, you win," said Lessing with a shrug, becoming serious again. "What do you think that letter was about?" 

"Well, it wasn't just to us. It went to about a hundred and fifty people." 

"Do you think she really wants us to come?" asked Lessing. 

"What do you think, Noah?" Sharr snapped. "We went behind her back and complained about her to Starfleet. If I were in her position…" she trailed off. 

"You're feeling guilty," said Lessing, with very little surprise in his voice. "Renlay…there's no need. Our complaints didn't make a difference." 

"How do you know that?" 

"She's still in Starfleet - she didn't get busted in rank - and the 'fleet is bending over backwards to keep her happy." 

"Don't you feel badly at all?" Sharr asked. 

Lessing's face hardened slightly. "She would have let me be killed, Ren. I spent weeks fighting off those creatures, and she almost let them kill me. She would have, if it hadn't been for the commander." 

Sharr paused before answering. In her own mind, Lessing's complaint to the Starfleet review board had been rather shaky. He and the rest of his _Equinox_ crewmates had to face their own charges when _Voyager_ had returned, and deservedly so. But as the only two complainants against Janeway from the ship - a surprise in itself - Lessing and Sharr had been thrown together as the board hearing went on. They had got to know each other as they never had on _Voyager_; Sharr had avoided the _Equinox_ crew, disgusted by their actions. By the end of the hearing, when their complaints were dismissed, and Sharr had begun to think about her future, she and Noah were firm friends, with the one proviso that they didn't discuss the _Equinox_ or the actions of the _Equinox _crew. That resolve was strengthened after Lessing and his crewmates were dishonorably discharged. 

Sharr changed the subject slightly. "Well, I do feel guilty, Noah. A little, at least. Everyone else has such respect for the captain - she must deserve some of it. My complaint was made up of niggling little things - trivialities that I should have been able to get over. I criticized her decision at the array, her cooperation with the Maquis, the amount of trust she put in a young kid like Harry Kim…I quoted regulations and guidelines and interstellar treaties. Look at me, Noah. I held her up to the highest Starfleet standards. Now she's still there, and I'm not." 

"But you enjoy your work, don't you?" asked Lessing 

"Of course!" Sharr thought back to the afternoon. "Well, most of the time. Did I tell you about this one sleaze on the board?" 

"The one who hit on you a few weeks ago?" 

"Yeah, him. Well, today he wanted to know if I still had any 'fleet contacts. I think he wants to go into business with the Hirogen." 

"I think he deserves them," said Lessing with a grin. "What did you tell him?" 

"The truth," replied Sharr. "That I have no contacts at Starfleet at all." 

A look of concern flitted over Lessing's face. "You shouldn't hide yourself away, Renlay. It's not healthy." 

"What about you?" she returned, a little upset that Lessing would try to lecture her. 

"I haven't cut off all contact. Marla, Angelo, Jim, Brian and I get together pretty regularly. We've faced the Starfleet music. We're over it. I don't think you are, Renlay." 

"I'll be fine, Noah. I've got my work - my family. My mother never leaves me alone! But I was meaning to ask how your work had been going?" 

"Good try, but it's not going to work." 

"Why not?" 

"I know you're changing the subject - you want to get me telling you all about the latest designs for incorporating nano-technology into civilian medicine. Well, I'm not going to tell you. Even if I didn't have a confidentiality agreement with the company." 

"Gotta give a girl credit for trying," said Sharr. 

"Maybe…" 

"How's Marla?" Sharr asked, genuinely interested. 

"Getting there," replied Lessing. "She had a rough time after the trial - she's like you, she takes things to heart and mulls over them for days on end. She's just accepted a job on a freighter. They needed a good engineer so badly that her Starfleet discharge didn't count against her." 

"I'm glad for her," said Sharr. "I really am." 

"Follow her example, Ren…get out and live a bit. Make some new friends - come to the dedication and get together with your friends from _Voyager_." 

"See if they still are my friends," Sharr said, a trifle bitterly. 

"Hey, don't worry too much," said Lessing. Then he grinned, "Just wear body armor." 

Sharr grinned too, but did not reply. The silence lasted at least thirty seconds. Then Sharr asked seriously, "Are you going to be at the dedication, Noah?" 

"I don't know," said Noah. "You?" 

Sharr shook her head, then shrugged. "I don't know, either."   
  
  
  


Key to Unfamiliar Personnel

Pablo Baytart - an exceptional pilot, quartered next door to Harry Kim on _Voyager_. (_Investigations_, _The Thaw_) 

Freddie Bristow - had a crush on B'Elanna. (_The Swarm_) 

William Chapman - selected by Seven of Nine for her first date. (_Someone to Watch Over Me_) 

Kashimuro Nozawa - appeared in thirty episodes across all seasons but season six, beginning with _Caretaker_ and ending with _Workforce_. 

Renlay Sharr - 'photographed' by the Doctor in the teaser of _Latent Image_ - her name is recorded at the bottom of the holo-image. (Also appears in _The Fight_)   
  
  



	10. Letting Go by Shayenne

Letting Go Disclaimer: Paramount Pictures own Voyager and her characters and I receive nothing from this except the satisfaction of tying up their loose ends for them.   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Sarah Carey, Joe's widow, is still struggling to come to terms with his death and is trying to make a life for herself and the boys. New friends from Voyager's crew help them get back on their feet. 

Letting Go   
_Copyright September 2001 by Shayenne_   
__

  


"Joey! For feck's sake leave the dog alone. You'll be late for school." The unspoken 'again' hung in the air. Sarah Carey, widow of Voyager's late engineer, Joe Carey, sighed and pushed her messy mouse-brown hair out of her eyes. Joey would be late, making Hunter late, and in turn she would be late for work. Again. 

The small apartment was a mess, but then it always was. Joey's PADDs for school were scattered all over the couch, she could see one of them disappearing down the back of the cushions and knew that in a few minutes - if Joey EVER left the poor fecking dog alone - that the missing PADD would cause a major crisis. Hunter's boots were missing as well, but quiet Hunter was still wandering around gathering Joey's things for him while Joey tormented poor Bran Og, the dog. Sarah was still in her dressing gown, trying to get some food into the boys before they left and trying to gather her own PADDs for work at the same time. She turned her back on the stove for a minute as she put out the dishes for breakfast and the oatmeal, thick and gelatinous, promptly stuck to the bottom of the pot and burned. She rushed to scrape it off but Joey's cry stopped her in her tracks. 

"Mam, Bran Og's been sick again..." 

She turned the heat off, leaving the oatmeal to congeal on the bottom and went to fix up the mess. The dog was young, barely past puppy stage, and excitable. Joey's teasing often had this effect. She had bought the dog for the boys the day after they heard that Joe, her darling Joe, had been killed. Executed no less. Joe, her lover, her husband, her comforter, her supporter, the father of her kids... No, she wouldn't go there now. Resolutely, Sarah turned to the mess on the floor. 

Poor Bran Og was cowering, tail between his legs. The puppy puke was spread from one end of the rug to the other. Bare floors in the entire apartment and each time the fecking dog managed to throw up on the only rug. She wiped it up and reassured Bran Og. It wasn't his fault that Joey was such a little bastard. 

Joey, now that tormenting the dog had achieved the desired result, was tearing through the apartment looking for his school bag. His sandy hair stuck up in tufts and his face was belligerent. 

"Where's my PADD? And the oatmeal's burnt again. I hate oatmeal anyway. Why can't we just replicate breakfast like other families? Why d'you have to cook muck?" His little fists were balled on his hips and the posture was so like his father that she had to swallow hard against the sudden thickening in her throat. 

"You know why, Joey. It saves credits if I cook." She strove to keep her voice calm as she repeated the words she spoke to him every morning. Saving credits, the eternal battle. The state provided their basic foodstuffs for free, as it did for everyone, but most normal people used their credits to replicate more palatable food. That was not an option for her. 

Joey spooned burnt oatmeal into a bowl and picked at it grumpily. "I hate this stuff." 

"Just eat yer fecking food, Joey, and stop whining." Her voice was sharper than she intended. 

"Can I have some extra credits today?" Hunter had entered on silent feet and stood towering over her. Thirteen years old and he was already nearly six feet tall. 

"What for?" 

"Cam and I want to play the new Captain Proton adventure - it's been released on the public holodeck downtown." 

Captain Proton. Another Voyager legacy. The dodgy black and white holodeck programs had been released to the public a few months ago and their popularity was booming. It seemed that every kid in town wanted to play at being Captain Proton and Buster Kincaid. 

"No, I'm sorry, Hunter. We don't have the credits." She hated refusing him; he asked for so little but what she said was the truth. 

"Please, Mam? It's only five credits." 

She gave him a fierce hug, her undemanding first-born. "I'm sorry, Hunter." 

"Okay." As he always did, he accepted her decision. He had inherited Joe's stoicism and way of accepting that which cannot be changed. Joey, the passionate and erratic had inherited Joe's stubbornness and flashes of brilliance. 

A beep broke the temporary silence. Joey jumped up and the oatmeal bowl went flying, splattering its viscous contents all over the chair and floor. 

"It's Starfleet!" Joey rushed over to the console in the corner of the room. 

Even covered with Hunter's coat, plates of congealed food and a pile of laundry, the console stood out in the room like dog's balls. It was modern; the Starfleet insignia on its screen proclaimed its origins. Starfleet had installed it in the apartment when the pathfinder project established near-instantaneous communication with Voyager. Each waiting family had been given one. Sarah hated it. She and the boys had only used it once before Joe was killed, and now it sat as a constant reminder of all they had lost. She kept it though, as it also permitted local communications and it was more reliable than her own older one. 

A message from Starfleet. She wondered why they didn't just leave her alone. The room was silent, except for the sound of Bran Og lapping up the spilt oatmeal. 

"Leave it, Joey. The message can wait. You have to get to school." She crossed to the console and knocked his hand away when it seemed he would disobey her and open the channel anyway. 

She rose, gathering bowls and clothes. "Come on now. Both of you. You haven't got all day, get yer fecking arses in gear." She clapped her hands, shoeing the boys from the room. They disappeared and then reappeared in record time, more or less in one piece. Joey's boots were trodden down at the heel where he had shoved his feet into them. They were probably too small. New boots. More credits she simply didn't have. 

She kissed both boys, watching them squirm away at the display of affection, then they fled out the door to catch the transport to school. She saw the chronometer and hurried to get herself ready. She would be late too. Again. That would make it every day this week. 

A scant five minutes later she left the apartment. She had left the dishes, hadn't even taken the time to put them in the recycler and once again she hadn't fed Bran Og. No doubt he would have licked the dishes clean by the time they returned. 

As she walked to the transit she kept a wary eye out around her. They lived in a rundown area of Los Angeles and the risk of petty crime was an accepted part of life. She averted her eyes from the child selling Bajoran Flight - the latest in a long line of addictive mind-altering substances to hit the streets. Once more she prayed to the god that she no longer believed in, to keep her children safe from its seductive clutches. She would sacrifice almost anything to move from here, but the state-supplied apartment was all she could afford. Like basic foodstuffs, simple housing was an assured right. But anyone who wanted to live in an area of their choosing had to make up the difference from their own credits. Once, seven years ago, she and the kids had lived somewhere nice. She and Joe had deemed housing a priority and had used nearly a third of their available credits to live in a safer area. Somewhere where there were trees and parkland, swingsets in fenced backyards and white-shuttered houses. Suburbia. Safe and secure. Seven years ago and Joe was alive, the kids were darling babbies and life was full of promise, something to be savored, not simply endured. 

She boarded the transit that would take her to her downtown job, where she worked cloistered in the basement of a large computer company, writing the complex manuals for the systems. Manuals that were never read by the users, who simply preferred to muddle through and then scream into the datalink for assistance. She wondered why she bothered, but there were few options for someone with her lack of formal qualifications, and at least it generated more credits than other work. 

Above her, unseen, Voyager maintained its standing orbit. Sarah didn't glance up. The less she acknowledged that doom ship the better. The last thing she wanted was a permanent reminder of all the trouble and pain it had caused her. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Sarah keyed in the code to let herself back into the apartment three hours later. The chaos of the room mocked her, but Bran Og was pleased by her unexpected arrival. With a guilty start, she remembered she hadn't fed him. 

She crossed to the replicator and paused. Heaven knows, she shouldn't waste credits, but she needed this. It wasn't every day that she was fired. 

"Computer, one large glass of Irish whisky, with ice." 

She crossed to the table and sat, cradling the glass. "Sláinte," she said ironically to Bran Og and drained the glass in one gulp. The whisky burned as it went down, mixing with the bile and acid of her own despair. 

She had no job. She was fired for being tardy. Again. She knew she didn't have a leg to stand on; they had warned her countless times already and cut her a lot of slack just after Joe was reported dead. 

She rested her head on her folded arms for a moment. She was just so tired. So bone-deep weary. And now, on top of everything else, she had just lost the major source of credits. She was down to Starfleet's widow's pension now, but that wouldn't even cover the repayments on the credit financing she had taken out years before. 

She pulled a PADD towards her and started calculating. Credits had been tight for the last five years. When Voyager disappeared, initially she was believed to be lost in the Badlands. Starfleet had kept in close contact with her for the first few weeks, but as the time stretched into months she heard from them less and less. She refused to let the matter drop. Others might be willing to forget about Janeway and her crew, but Sarah was not. Joe, her beloved Joe was on board, and she wasn't about to call him 'missing in action' and get on with her life. She rang Starfleet daily, but as time progressed, fewer people responded to her pleas and demands. Eventually her calls went unanswered. 

On the day that Voyager was declared officially missing, Joe's salary, which had been paid into their joint credit account, was replaced with the smaller widow's pension. On that day, she came home from lobbying fruitlessly outside of Admiral Paris' office and told the kids that she didn't believe that Joe was lost. Together, they would continue to search for him. 

She gathered together all the credits she could lay her hands on. All of their accrued credits and the small inheritance her father had left her. It wasn't enough, so she sold jewelry and the few decent paintings she had. The fancy hover-car was replaced with a smaller model. Still it fell short of what she needed, so she moved herself and the kids into a smaller apartment in the same neighborhood. 

She had enough credits to hire an investigator and send him out on an Andorian freighter bound for the Badlands. There he connected with the underground movement of the Maquis, and ascertained by discreet questioning that they didn't have anything to do with Voyager's disappearance, and in fact had lost one of their own ships, the _Liberty,_ at the same time. 

The investigator was following a promising lead from the Ferengi when the credits ran out. He sent her a message outlining his findings. If she wanted him to pursue the lead, she had to transfer ten thousand more credits. She didn't have them, but she went to one of the black-market barterers and arranged a loan. Such transactions were illegal; the state preferred to believe that there was no need for such a system. The state provided basic food, housing and healthcare; any more was superfluous. State housing; she grimaced. Their final move had been into state supplied housing, in this run down neighborhood. 

The investigator took the credits and disappeared with the Ferengi, but the lead petered out. Two weeks later, he reappeared with another lead, again with the Maquis, and this time he needed fifteen thousand. Two months later, she was one hundred and ten thousand credits in debt and she had no concrete evidence about what had happened to Voyager. She recalled the investigator; she had no choice, even the underground financier had pulled the plug and was refusing her business. She took employment, and all the credits generated from her salary went into repaying the loan. Defaulting on the loan was not an option. Once she had been a few days late with her repayment and she had received a phone call. An anonymous voice had asked her if she knew where her kids were. Really knew. And suggested that she hurry up with her repayment if she didn't want to worry about them. 

Sarah calculated. She had enough credits to make the next repayment. She hoped she would find employment that would cover the repayment for the month after that. She would have to; there was no one she was prepared to ask for help. Her parents were dead and although Joe's parents had contributed what they could, they weren't in a position to offer much. She wouldn't ask them anyway. She was far more able- bodied than they were; she could earn her own money. 

She crossed to the console thinking that she would access the position open advertisements on the public channels, but the blinking message light caught her attention. Starfleet. What the feck did they want? She hadn't heard from them since she had refused the grief counseling they offered following Joe's death. 

She activated the message. The familiar haughty face of Captain Janeway appeared on the screen. Sarah studied the screen. The Captain appeared more relaxed than she had when she first returned to Earth. She had put on a little weight and the planes of her face were softer. 

"Good morning Mrs. Carey. I am Kathryn Janeway, formerly Captain of Voyager." 

Sarah's mouth twisted. Did the woman really believe that she didn't know who she was? Still, she supposed that that was better than arrogantly assuming that the world knew her identity, even if they probably did. 

"I was wondering if it would be all right if I came to visit you at some time in the near future... What's that?" Janeway's voice trailed off and she appeared to be talking to someone in the background. Then Janeway resumed looking at the screen, "Sorry about that. If Commander Chakotay and I could come and pay you a visit." Janeway's face was mellow and she looked happy. "You can reach me via Starfleet at any time. I'm looking forward to meeting you, Mrs. Carey. Joe was a valued and much loved member of my crew. I wish..." Janeway looked wistful for a moment then collected herself. "I hope to talk to you soon." The message ended. 

Sarah stared at the console. Captain Janeway, the last person on Earth she wanted to meet. Janeway, who was indirectly responsible for her predicament now. She didn't reply to the message. 

On a whim she replayed the last message she had received from one of the Voyager crew. The Doctor's stern face appeared on the screen. Dr. Joseph Carey Zimmerman, Sarah reminded herself, not simply 'The Doctor' anymore. The message was now nearly five months old and she had yet to reply. The newly dubbed Dr. Zimmerman explained to her why he had chosen his name. He wished to honor the last Voyager crewman to fall in the line of duty as well as his creator. He apologized for not asking for her approval beforehand, but the circumstances surrounding his trial had made this impossible. He ended by saying that he hoped his choice of name ensured that Joe Carey's name lived on and was not forgotten. 

Sarah's mouth twisted wryly; the Doctor either didn't know or had forgotten that there was already a Joseph Carey Junior - her son Joey. But the man - hologram, she amended to herself - meant well. She recorded a brief message to him, assuring him that she understood his choice of name and that he had her blessing for what it was worth. She ended by congratulating him on the outcome of his trial and then, acting on an impulse she didn't stop to analyze, she invited him to come and visit herself, Hunter and his other namesake, Joey, sometime. 

She sent the message. Voyager and her crew it seemed, were going to be a part of their lives whether they wanted them to be or not. She childishly stuck her tongue out in the general direction of the ship herself, orbiting above. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The boys took the news that she didn't have employment stoically. Hunter never mentioned the Captain Proton program, Joey hugged her in a rare physical burst of affection. 

"Don't worry, Mam, " he said. "You'll get better work soon. Maybe Captain Janeway will get you a job." 

Joey hero-worshipped the great Janeway. She hadn't dissuaded him; she thought it made him feel closer to his father. 

She spent the days scouring the employment openings. There was plenty that she could do, but she neededsomething that provided at least the level of credit allocation that she had received before. Each day, when the boys had left for school, she made a half-hearted attempt to restore order to chaos in the small apartment, and then she would sit down with a cup of tea and check the day's opening. 

Three days into her unemployment, she had just sat down at the console, when the door chime rang. She opened the door to find a familiar dark, curly head outside. 

"Michael," she squealed, "oh god, it's good to see you." She flung her arms around her friend, hugging him tightly. "Come in. Cup of tea?" 

"Thanks." Michael Ayala threw down his jacket, and tipped Bran Og off the couch with the ease of a welcome friend. He settled himself into the worn couch, putting down the bag he carried. "I never knew why you gave this dog such a ridiculous name." He scratched the droopy-eyed Bran Og between the ears. 

"Hunter named him," Sarah called from the kitchen area. "It's from Irish folklore. Bran Og was Oisin's hound." 

"Ah, I see." Michael fended the dog off when he tried to jump into his lap. 

"How are Sonia and the boys?" Sarah enjoyed the company of Michael's wife and his boys, Ivan and Gus. 

"They're fine. Sonia wants you all to come up for dinner again sometime. We all really enjoyed the last time." 

"Ah, it's a bit hard getting to San Francisco right now." Sarah busied herself with the tea. "The credits for the transport, you know." 

"Yes, I understand." Michael didn't press the issue. 

"Here," she handed him the mug of tea. "I'm sorry I have no cookies. I can't even offer to replicate you some." She passed a tired hand over her forehead, brushing back the mousy strands of hair. 

"It's all right. I know what happened." Michael cut off her explanation. "I called you at work. They said you didn't work there any more." 

"Yeah. They sacked me, finally." She gave a short laugh. "Guess I'm lucky I lasted as long as I did." 

"Ah, Sarah, you're an asset to anyone. Person or company. Here." He rummaged in the bag at his feet. "I stopped by the Statestore, I've got cookies." He pulled out a packet and opened it, passing them over to her. 

"Thanks." She chewed absently. 

"Any luck finding employment?" Michael asked the question cautiously. Sarah could be prickly when she thought someone was being too nice to her. 

"Not yet. But I will. I have to." 

"You will. I have every faith in you." Swiftly he pulled her into his side for a quick hug. "But Sarah, if you haven't by the time the next repayment is due, I want you to promise you'll come and ask me, I'm..." 

"No." She cut him off unequivocally. "I don't ask for charity, Michael. I'll manage." 

"I know you'll manage, Sarah, but I want you to do more than manage. Please. Let a friend help you if you need it. Let me do this for Joe." 

She hesitated, but looking in his face she saw nothing but the genuine desire to help a friend. The humiliating pity that she sometimes saw on well-meaning people's face was absent. From the start Michael had been there for her. 

"All right," she said finally. "If I really have no other options, then I'll take you up on the offer." 

"Good," he said simply. "Now, suppose I cook us some lunch and I'll tell you my news." 

She settled into the couch, sipping her tea and watched him bustle around the small kitchen, pulling food out of the bag he had brought. Dear Michael, he had almost certainly brought the food especially for her. She thought back to when he had first appeared in her life. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Voyager had been back for nearly four months. She and the boys were watching the newscast, curled up together on the couch like a pile of puppies. The real puppy, Bran Og, was panting at Hunter's feet. The newscast was talking about the release of more of the former Maquis members of Voyager's crew. The newscast showed some of them filing out of Starfleet Command earlier in the day. She watched their jubilant faces as they finally walked out, free men and women. She thought that she caught a glimpse of Joe's friend, Michael Ayala, but she couldn't be sure. 

The door chime rang and Hunter uncurled himself long enough to answer the door. Sarah looked up to see him lead a dark-haired man into the room. He was dressed in civvies, but she recognized his smiling good looks from the screen. He carried a large box carefully in both arms. 

"Mr. Ayala?" She asked the question to be polite. 

"Yes, Mrs. Carey. I'm Michael Ayala. I hope you don't mind me dropping in unannounced, I would have called ahead, but I was in the area so I thought I would just come around. I can come back later, if this isn't convenient. I don't know if you know, but I was a good friend of Joe's." 

"Yes." His words brought a fresh wave of grief and she hugged herself tightly. "Joe spoke of you in his letters and mentioned you on the datastream. He thought highly of you." 

"He was my friend," the man said simply. "He helped me out many times. He was a very good bloke." 

He put down his parcel carefully. "I know Starfleet gave you his possessions, but they didn't give you this, simply because I had it in my quarters and they assumed it was mine." 

He opened the box and pulled out a large glass bottle. Inside was a scale replica of Voyager, perfectly constructed inside the narrow-necked glass bottle. "He was making this for Hunter and Joey. He had nearly finished, when..." 

"He was killed," Sarah finished quietly. She noticed Hunter and Joey staring wide-eyed at the visitor. 

"He only had to finish the port nacelle." Joey solemnly looked up into Michael's face. 

"I know. Maybe you and Hunter would like to finish it for him." Michael was very serious with the child. "I think your dad would like that." 

Hunter came over and put his face to the glass. "I'll finish it." 

"No, I will!" Joey clenched his fists menacingly. "Why d'you get to do it?" 

"I'm older. You'll only mess it up." 

"Won't. You'll do it too slowly, it won't be any fun." 

Sarah stepped between them. "Be quiet the pair of you. You'll do it together or not at all. Now take it to your room. Carefully" She hoped they wouldn't smash it as they fought over who would carry it. "Fecking eejits, the pair of them," she added to Michael. 

He stood looking after them with a twisted smile on his face. "They are good lads," he said. "Joey looks like Joe." 

"Yes," her voice was unsteady, "and Hunter takes after me." She cleared her throat. "I want to thank you for your letter," she said. "Yours and the one from the rest of the crew. But yours in particular made me feel I was listening to someone who really knew my husband." 

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For letting me continue to write to you. It helped me accept what happened. I hope it helped you too, just a little." 

Suddenly it overwhelmed her and she choked, turning her head away from Michael. Tears threatened as they had so often over the past few months. She drew deep breaths willing them to pass. Two arms wrapped around her shoulders and Michael turned her, bringing her head to his shoulder. 

"You can cry, Sarah," he said. "It's allowed." 

His gentle sympathy was the final straw, and she clutched him and cried, letting the tears flow freely, soaking his shirt. When her sobs finally faded to hiccups and gasps for breath, she lifted her head and stepped away from him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." 

"Don't be ashamed to cry, Sarah. I certainly cried enough for Joe too." 

"Did you?" She tried to imagine this man crying for her husband and found the picture came easily. 

"Yes. When my mother died nine years ago, I found I could only let go in the shower. I had to be strong for my brothers and sisters, so I never cried in front of them. I would go into the shower and when the water started to pour over my head, the tears would come too. When I turned the shower off they stopped. I did the same with Joe." He shrugged self depreciatingly. "But it isn't the same in a sonic shower, which was all we had on Voyager." 

She smiled and wiped her face with her sleeve. "I can imagine. But, thank you for sharing that." She hesitated, then rushed on, before she could change her mind. "That is the first time that... that I've cried for Joe. I couldn't let myself. There was too much I had to do, and I had to be there for the kids." 

"We all need to cry. Until we acknowledge our grief, we can't begin to heal." 

"Whose shoulder did you cry on?" 

"Sam Wildman's. Once on Chakotay's." 

"Sam and I have become friends," said Sarah, deliberately ignoring the reference to Chakotay. "She's a lovely person. She and Naomi have been visiting us here." 

A noise from the other room reminded her of the kids. "I don't want them to see me like this." She hurried over to the sink and started splashing water on her red eyes. "Can you stop the little gobshites coming out here for a minute?" 

"Sure." Michael disappeared towards the boy's voices. 

She heard him talking to them, admiring the spaceship in a bottle and telling them how much patience it took to build something like that. When he reappeared with the boys in tow, she was composed again. He smiled and said that he was taking them all out to dinner, his treat, as he was so delighted to finally meet his best friend's family. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Sarah recalled herself to the present as Michael put down a steaming plate in front of her. The bacon and cheese omelet and crispy hash browns made her mouth water. She reached for the pepper sauce. "How did you know I haven't had breakfast?" 

"Lucky guess." He sat down next to her and tucked into his own plateful. "Want to hear my news?" 

"Of course." 

"I've decided to stay in Starfleet. They were patient with me while I considered my options. Sonia didn't want me going off into deep space again, so I didn't accept their offer immediately, but now I've been offered a position on the _Cosmos_. She's a small scout ship and operates close to Earth, so I'll be home frequently to see Sonia and the kids. No more deep space for me!" 

"That's great, Michael. Sonia must be pleased to have you around." 

"She is. But I won't be taking the position until after Voyager's dedication as a museum. So I will have plenty of time to get to spend with my family." 

He smiled. "Captain Janeway left me a message congratulating me." 

"She left me one too." Sarah couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Finally, she decides she wants to come around and visit me." 

"When is she coming?" Michael asked curiously. 

"She's not. I didn't reply to the message." 

"Ah, I see." Michael put down his mug of tea and turned to face her. "You should meet her, Sarah. She's a generous and kind-hearted woman underneath the captain's mask. And I heard she was pretty cut up when Joe was killed. She blamed herself somehow for not saving him. Later, too, when we made it back home, she blamed herself again." 

"Bully for her." Sarah's face was set in lines of stone. 

"If not for you, Sarah, consider it for Hunter and Joey." He hesitated slightly before plunging on. "If you don't mind me saying so, I think all three of you need some sort of closure for Joe's death. " 

"I'll think about it. Is that good enough? Please don't push me, Mike." 

"It's a start. You never know, Sarah. I think you'll like her." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn came slowly awake to the feel of a large hand stroking over her ribcage to cup a breast. She lay still, feigning sleep and let Chakotay's fingers tease her breast. His warm breath was erratic on the back of her neck, telling her he was very definitely awake and wanted to play. She turned into his arms, raising her mouth for his kiss. 

"Good morning," he hummed the words into her mouth, before claiming her lips assuredly, teasing the moist corners of them with his tongue. 

She moaned slightly, letting him explore her mouth, even as her own fingers stroked along his hard, golden back, down to his hip. Waking up to Chakotay's tender and thorough loving was definitely one of the best parts of the day. She wondered if in time, the urgency they felt for each other would abate, and meld into a softer, quieter familiar need, but she was in no hurry for that to happen. 

Chakotay's lips were tracing a path down to her breast. She molded herself closer to him and began to lose herself in his lovemaking. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Later, Kathryn and Chakotay lay together, letting their bodies spiral down from the plateau of their desires. Their limbs were still entwined, cream on gold, dappled with the morning sunlight washing through the room. 

She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his chest, salty and warm. "I love you. I still can't believe that this has happened. That we are together." 

His laughter rumbled through his chest. "I know. After all we went through, Kathryn, to have you here, with me, in our bed… Well, I had given up hope of it ever happening." 

"I know. I'm sorry. I wish…" 

He cut her off with a finger to her lips, then pulled her over his chest to kiss her once more. "Kathryn, don't be sorry. It wasn't our time before. Maybe we would have tried and failed, the pressures of our position may have driven a wedge between us. Don't waste time in regrets. Just enjoy what we have now." 

She laid her head back down on his chest. He combed his fingers through the burnished carpet of her hair, spreading it over his chest so that he could admire the sheen of it against his skin. 

"Know one thing though, Kathryn. We won't separate now. Not ever." 

"No. We won't. We'll grow old together." 

"Wrinkled and gray." 

"Flabby and age-speckled." 

"Fading sight and hard of hearing. We'll be two crotchety oldtimers together in a corner." He wove his fingers with hers. "But we'll be together. And we'll still love each other." 

"Yes," she sighed, "we will." She held him close, tightly. Binding him to her and her to him, for as long as forever. The sun climbed higher in the sky, unnoticed by both of them, as they reaffirmed their vows to each other in the oldest way known to man weaving their bodies and spirits together so that they truly didn't know where one ended and the other began. 

Later, Kathryn sighed, a soft breath, fanning over his warm skin. 

"What are you thinking about?" Chakotay asked the question idly. 

"Sarah Carey. She never answered my call." 

His hands traced patterns on her skin. "Give her time, Kathryn. It must be hard for her." 

"She's had nearly ten months. Maybe she's annoyed I haven't called her before this. She may have heard that we visited the families of other crewmen who didn't make it home. Maybe she feels ignored, or slighted. Maybe she's heard about Admiral Janeway. It wouldn't be too hard to find out. Maybe she's wondering why the Admiral didn't come back a few scant weeks earlier and prevent Joe being killed." Kathryn's eyes were haunted. "I know I wondered." 

"That's why you can't face her, isn't it? You feel guilty that your future self couldn't help Joe." 

"Yes, it is. Oh, the Admiral gave me an explanation. She didn't mention Joe specifically, but I think she knew. A miscalculation. She meant to arrive nearly a month before. Before Joe was killed. Before you and Seven became close." 

Chakotay winced slightly at the implication behind the words. Even then the future Kathryn was trying to prevent pain to those she loved. Trying to spare Seven the humiliation of a broken relationship. Trying to save him the necessity of choosing between them. And trying to save Joe. 

"So what do I tell Sarah, when she asks me why my future self didn't save her husband?" 

"The truth, Kathryn. Tell her the story as it should be told. She will appreciate that. I hear from Ayala that she is a very forthright woman. Tell you what, if we haven't heard from her by next week, we'll pay her a visit. Maybe it will work out better if we just appear." 

"Yes." She laid her head back down. "When did you learn to be so wise?" 

"You taught me wisdom, Kathryn, just as you gave me peace and brought me love." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Sarah was home when the second message from Starfleet came in. The console played the message automatically as she was logged in. A young Bajoran woman with lieutenant's pips relayed the message to her that a date had been finalized for Voyager's dedication ceremony. Voyager would be landed on the pad that would be her final resting-place in six weeks time. All the crew would be on board, the young woman said, and families and friends of the crew would have special reserved seating on the ground to watch the landing. There would be a telecast from the ship, so that they could see inside and watch the crew as she made her final landing. 

She had six tickets allocated to her. The young woman asked that she get back to her with names as soon as possible. 

Sarah stared at the screen. "You can keep yer fecking tickets," she said. "I won't be going." 

"Ma'am?" The lieutenant appeared to doubt what she had heard. 

"You heard me. I won't be going." 

"Well ma'am, if you could let me know, when you are ready, the names of the people who will be using your tickets. Your children…" 

"They won't be going either." Sarah's mouth twisted into a sour line. "Starfleet has done nothing for me. I don't want to celebrate the hoopla with them." 

She could see the young lieutenant's mouth form an O of astonishment as she closed the channel. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Starfleet, she thought savagely. 

"Mam?" Hunter's timid voice brought her back. "Mam, I would like to go." 

"And me. Please. We could go with Mike." Joey crept up and rested his head on her lap, something he hadn't done since the awful night when they learned that Joe had been executed. 

"Mike will be on board," said Sarah. 

"Well, we could go with Sonia, Gus and Ivan. Please? I want to go. For Dad." 

"Yes, for Dad." Hunter's voice held the crack of adolescence, and he looked her in the eye, daring her to tell him no. So like Joe. 

Did she really have the right to deny them this? Sarah didn't know. She felt she didn't know much about anything any more. She had thought the kids wouldn't care, just as she didn't. "I'll think about it," she said finally. 

"Promise?" 

"I promise. And if we go, we go together as a family." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The day before her next repayment was due, Sarah received a communication. The financier's face stared impassively out at her. "Miz Carey, I heard about your unfortunate piece of luck. No job, so I hear. Isn't that a shame?" 

She stared with dry mouth at the screen, wishing he would hurry up and get to the point. She no more believed that he had called to offer her sympathy than she believed that Bran Og was Lassie the wonder dog. 

"I'm sure the idea of defaulting on your repayments hasn't even entered your head," the man was saying in an odious smooth tone, "because I'm sure you know that if the repayment isn't received by tomorrow one of your boys could be very, very late home from school." 

The channel went dead. She had the credits for this repayment, but she would have to find employment that paid sufficiently well to make the next payment. She was thankful that the message had come through when the kids were in their room. 

The fecking dinner was burnt again. She crossed quickly to the stove - this time it was beyond saving. She dumped it in Bran Og's bowl and watched him lash into it. At least someone appreciated her cooking. 

Hunter and Joey came out of their room, sniffing the air. 

"Burnt the dinner again, Mam?" Joey was already rooting around in the cupboard, looking for something to eat. "I'll eat those cookies that Michael left instead." 

Suddenly furious with him, she grabbed his arm. "You will do nothing of the sort you fecking gobshite. Put them back." 

Joey stared at her sullenly and defiantly crammed three cookies into his mouth at once. "Shan't. Gonna make me?" Crumbs sprayed over the messy kitchen counter. 

She grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the cupboard. The cookies dropped on the floor, to Bran Og's delight, but none of them noticed. Joey looked scared for a moment, then rallied. "Bully," he screamed, "pick on someone your own size." 

"You ungrateful little bastard." The words were shrill in the quiet apartment. "Get out of my sight before I do something I will regret." Her hand raised and hovered in the air, then she grabbed his shirt and turned him fiercely around, paddling his bottom with sharp strokes. "Get out of here." 

Joey was white, "I will, and I won't be back. You'll be sorry." 

She saw Hunter grab Joey's coat. "Joey, wait…" 

Joey turned around at the door and she saw that tears were streaming down his face. "I hate you," he shouted. "You wouldn't do this if Dad was alive." Stamping a foot he ran back and grabbed his coat from Hunter. He whirled around, ready to leave and the coat trailed out behind him. 

Sarah saw it in slow motion. Joey's tearstained angry face; Hunter shocked and silent. She saw the coat float through the air, heading inexorably for the one thing in the room that was truly theirs and totally irreplaceable. The coat caught Joe's ship in the bottle, and in horror she saw it glide to the edge of the shelf, and teeter for long moments before crashing to the floor. 

She saw the jagged pieces of glass, the crushed model that Joe had worked so hard to build for the kids and for her, and it was too much. She started to cry, tears running down her face, coming harder as she noticed through her blurred vision that Hunter was crying too, great gulping sobs as he took in the smashed wreckage of the ship. Joey howled in horror, a long scream that seemed torn out of him. "Nooooooo" he moaned, and Bran Og raised his head and howled his mournful wolf-howl in chorus. 

The dam had burst. She didn't know how but the boys were in her arms, Joey hugging her tightly around the waist, Hunter around the shoulders. She reached out as far as she could and embraced them, as tears ran down her face. The ship lay in pieces at their feet, and Bran Og pressed against their legs. So little they had, thought Sarah, the only thing that mattered was each other. She clutched the boys tighter to her. 

"Excuse me," a husky female voice interrupted her thoughts. "I realize this is a bad time, but we were just passing…" 

Sarah looked up, into the concerned face of Kathryn Janeway. Chakotay stood beside her, holding her hand. 

"I'm sorry. We don't mean to interrupt, but maybe we can help in some way?" 

Sarah started to laugh, and the boys, who were wide-eyed and staring at Janeway, looked worriedly back to Sarah. 

"Help?" she said. "Oh god, if only you knew." 

The boys peeled away from her and went over to stand next to Janeway. "You're the Captain," said Hunter. 

"Yes." Janeway crouched down and started picking up the shards of broken glass. "And you're Hunter. And I damaged my Voyager just as badly as you have here, and we recovered. Let's see what we can do with this one." She lifted the broken model out of the glass. "I don't think she's too badly broken. Here, Joey, retrieve that section of the bridge over there. Let's see if it will fit back on." 

Sarah watched possibly the most famous woman on Earth reassure her kids. The great Captain Janeway was down on her hands and knees among the broken glass. She glanced at Chakotay, and saw that he was watching Janeway with a tender expression that surprised her. She hadn't known that the pair were lovers. 

He saw her looking and smiled. "Any chance of a cup of tea? If I know Kathryn, she won't stop until she's made sure that model can be fixed." 

Sarah led the way into the small kitchen and put the kettle on. "Why are you here?" Her voice was still thick with the tears she had shed. "I didn't reply to her message." 

"I know."The big man leaned against the doorjamb. "We were passing…" …" He must have caught the flash of disbelief in her eyes as he said,, "all right, that's not true. We wanted to see you. Kathryn needed to see you… to explain." He caught himself and continued, "she cared about all her crew. She cared about Joe. The night after he died, I went into his quarters, and she was sitting there, in the dark, just looking at that model ship. Don't think she is indifferent, Sarah. Sometimes when you feel too much, it is easier not to face it." 

Much as she didn't want to, she found she believed in the sincerity of his simple words. "What does she want to explain?" 

"Joe's death. How she couldn't prevent it. How valued and loved Joe was on the ship. His steadfastness, fairness, how he had time for everyone. How he cared for little Naomi Wildman." He took a deep breath. "I may be asking too much here, Sarah, but please, try not to blame Kathryn too much. And there are some things that only she can tell you, what she tried to do. All I'm asking is that you at least listen to her. Please. I hope it's not too much to ask." 

She busied herself with the tea. "All right. I'll listen." Dimly she wondered how often in the last few days she had agreed to just think about it, listen to someone, and keep an open mind. Had she really become so bitter since Joe had died? The flash of compassion she saw in Chakotay's eyes told her that yes, maybe she had, but that he at least, understood. 

They took the tea out to the living room. Kathryn and the boys had cleaned up the glass and were intent on assessing the damage to the model. Kathryn looked up as they came in. "She can be repaired. It's not as bad as it looks." 

The boys nodded in affirmation. They could fix her. Make her as good as new. Carefully, Hunter picked up the damaged model and the boys took her into the bedroom. 

An uneasy silence fell. Sarah cradled her mug of tea carefully in two hands and stared down into it. She had promised Chakotay that she would listen, but she was unsure how to broach the subject. She didn't have to. 

Kathryn Janeway, displaying a hesitation at odds with her assured demeanor, told her the fantastic tale of Voyager's arrival in the Alpha Quadrant and the part played by her future self. She said she couldn't be sure, but she thought it was a miscalculation using the new technology that prevented the admiral coming back earlier in the timeline in time to save Joe. 

Sarah listened and strangely was the one to comfort Janeway and reassure her that she couldn't be expected to be responsible for the actions of her future self. And she found that in offering forgiveness to another, her own hurt and bitterness began to recede. 

She watched Chakotay silently support the captain, holding her hand, offering the balm of his touch as wordless reassurance that he was there. She saw the love flowing between the two of them, and sensed that there was more to their story than anyone would ever know. It couldn't have been easy for them, loving each other yet unable to express it. Sarah felt the space in her heart that belonged to Joe ache anew in the acceptance of his absence. 

In return for their giving, she shared a little of her own life. Without anger, she told of the credits spent on the search for Voyager, waving a hand in dismissal of her impoverished circumstances. She did not tell them about the crippling repayments, for fear that it might be interpreted as a plea for assistance. Sarah was still not ready to accept handouts. 

When Janeway and Chakotay finally made to leave, the artificial streetlights spilt pools of gold on the sidewalks outside, painting the rundown neighborhood with an aura of acceptability. She hugged them both in turn, then waited as they said goodbye to the boys. 

"I hope we'll see you at the dedication," said Chakotay. "You and the boys." 

"I haven't decided yet." Sarah was still ambivalent. "I'm not sure if I can see that ship as a cause for celebration just yet." 

"Why not come up next week sometime?" Janeway made the suggestion carefully. "Many of the crew will be volunteering time then, including myself and Chakotay. Come and see her first, before the dedication. Take time to walk around, visit Joe's quarters. Make your peace with her in your own time." 

Sarah gave a faint smile. "I might do that. " 

"We'd love to see you, anytime. Tell the transporter staff to call me for immediate authorization." Janeway gave her a second swift hug. "Thank you," she whispered in her ear, "for listening and for your understanding. I wish it could have been different." 

Sarah swallowed hard but hugged the older woman back. "So do I," she whispered, "so do I." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Sarah transported over to Voyager a week later, acting on a sudden impulse. She was alone; the boys were at school and she felt that this was something she needed to do by herself. Janeway hadn't lied; when the public transporter staff had called Janeway for authorization, the answer came back swiftly: "Get her up here, and tell her I'm putting the kettle on!" 

Janeway alone met her in the transporter room. 

"Chakotay will be joining us later," she explained. "He's helping B'Elanna dismantle a particularly stubborn piece of Sedakatah technology from the impulse engines. Would you prefer to wander around by yourself or would you like me to give you a tour?" 

"The tour would be nice." Sarah made up her mind quickly; she wanted time to compose herself before visiting Joe's quarters and the tour would give her that breathing space. 

"We'll start in the messhall and see if we can find you that promised cup of tea." Janeway led the way out of the room and down the long corridor. 

Sarah looked all around her as she walked. She had been on several starships of course, but none of them had carried quite the lived-in feeling that Voyager had. The ship shone, although some of her bulkheads were dented and the floor coverings worn. Crewmen were busy, refurbishing parts of the ship. 

"You would be amazed at how many decisions were made in these corridors," Janeway said conversationally. "As many as in the ready room, I'm sure. Chakotay and I would walk and talk." 

Sarah had a sudden mental picture of the two of them, the darkly good-looking Commander, head bent attentively close to the diminutive Captain. She thought they would have been a very fair team. 

In the mess hall there was a knot of crewmen. A Bolian was overseeing a crew who appeared to be stabilizing some large cooking burners. "No," he was saying, "Neelix had them arranged that way for a reason - he liked to talk to people as he was cooking. Having the burners there may not have been the most ergonomic way, but it meant he could socialize as well as cook." 

Janeway interrupted with a grin. "And Neelix loved to socialize! Chell, if we could trouble you for a cup of tea, and a cup of coffee, please." 

"Certainly, Captain. Replicated or Neelix's way?" 

Janeway rolled her eyes at Sarah. "Much as I would love one last taste of Neelix's coffee, I think replicated might be safer. Your crew is blocking the replicators, would you mind?" 

As Chell turned to make the drinks, Sarah felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Sam Wildman there. 

"Sam! How nice to see you." The two women hugged briefly. 

"I didn't know you were coming up today! You should have told me, I would have loved to show you around. And Mike's not here - he'll be sorry he missed you." 

Sarah looked uncomfortably towards the Captain. "Captain Janeway has offered to escort me," she said. 

Janeway sized up the situation instantly. "I'll show her the main areas of the ship, Sam, then I'll hand her over to you. You might like to show her your quarters and maybe the holodecks." 

"I'd like that," Sarah and Sam spoke together and exchanged a conspiratorial grin. Sam touched Sarah's shoulder. "I'll see you later. We can catch up then." 

Drink in hand, Janeway led Sarah through the maze of corridors and onto the turbolift. "Bridge," she said, before turning to Sarah. "You don't know how pleased I am that you came, Sarah. This was Joe's home for seven years, and I'm glad you are seeing her before they turn her into a museum with sticky-fingered kids running their grubby paws over everything. It's a fitting end for her, but it won't be the same ship." 

"Captain…" 

"Kathryn, if you don't mind. I'm not your Captain but I hope I can maybe be your friend." 

"Kathryn. I just wanted to thank you for inviting me. I hope you can understand, but you haven't exactly been my favorite person over the years. I rather blamed you, you see, for stranding Joe out on this fecking ship at the far end of the galaxy. Now that I've met you, well, I think I was wrong to condemn you as I did. I'm sorry. And, if you can be patient with me a little longer - so much anger and bitterness is hard to let go - then I think we will eventually be friends." 

Janeway studied her, with a wry twist to her mouth. "Yes," she said, "I appreciate your candidness. I think we will eventually be friends." 

The turbolift came to a halt."Now, let me start by showing you the bridge." 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Chakotay greeted them in engineering, smiling hello to Sarah and greeting Janeway with a soft press of his fingers to her palm. Her face softened in response, and their eyes held each other for a brief moment, before they returned to business. 

"Did you bring Hunter and Joey?" Chakotay was looking around for them. "They might enjoy the holodecks." 

"No." Sarah was a little defensive. "They are at school. And since I'm no longer working it was easiest to come alone. The transport up here takes enough credits for one person, let alone three." 

A brief flash of anger showed in Janeway's eyes. "Why didn't you…" 

Sarah saw Chakotay press her fingers slightly in warning, and Janeway subsided again. "Another time," she said evenly. "Now, there is some-one here I would like you to meet." 

She led Sarah over, to where a dark young woman was snarling invectives at her console. "B'Elanna," she said, "I'd like you to meet Sarah Carey." 

"Oh." B'Elanna looked up in surprise and smiled a warm, genuine smile. "Sarah, I feel like I know you already from Joe's stories. I'm so happy to meet you." 

Janeway's comm badge chirped and she spoke into it for a moment. "B'Elanna, can I leave Sarah with you - there's a problem with the remaining Borg alcoves in cargo bay two. Take a break, if you want, and when you've finished showing Sarah around Engineering, page Sam Wildman. She is going to show Sarah the crew quarters." 

"Sure thing." B'Elanna took Sarah's arm and started to lead her away. Her voice floated back clearly to the command team. "Did Joe ever tell you about the time I broke his nose?" 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Much later, Sarah keyed in the code she was given and stepped into the quiet quarters. Joe's quarters. His home on board, where he had written such tender letters to her, where he had lain awake missing her and the boys, and where he had painstakingly worked on his ship in a bottle. Happy times too. She knew from Sam that they and Naomi had shared good times together, quiet meals in these quarters and that the three of them had often spent happy times on the holodeck, each in their own way trying to recreate some sense of the family they were missing. 

Leaving the lights dim, she wandered around the deserted quarters. Joe's possessions had been packed away after his death, but the quarters had never been reallocated. Michael had said that they would have been, in time, but it hadn't been done before Voyager's abrupt return to the Alpha Quadrant. So the ghosts that stole out of the bulkheads to surround her were those memories and echoes of Joe's presence. 

She lay on his bunk and closed her eyes, letting the memory come of the last time they had lain together. She remembered Joe holding her close, his sweet, soft lovemaking and the way he had cried her name at the moment of orgasm. Such a tender, gentle man. Such a fiercely passionate man. The paradox that was uniquely Joe. She let the tide of memories wash over her, moments of joy, of sadness, funny little snapshots of their life together. For the first time since he went missing she didn't try to suppress them; she let them come, chasing through her head in a flickering procession of images and sounds. 

She opened her eyes and found she was hugging his pillow. It bore no trace of his scent. Still, if ever there was a place in this world where traces of Joe lingered, then it was here, in these dark quarters. She knew that Joe believed in an afterlife and at that moment she hoped he was right. She fancied that he was watching her somehow, that if she turned her head she would see his ghost, as insubstantial as smoke, surrounding her. The thought gave her strength. 

"Good bye Joe," she whispered in the recycled air. "Good-bye my love. You are not forgotten." 

She fancied she heard the whisper of a sigh, an echo of her words maybe, breathed into the shadowy corners, and the atmosphere lightened imperceptibly. 

Wearing her tears proudly on her face, Sarah Carey left her husband's quarters to make her peace with his ship. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Kathryn Janeway stormed into Owen Paris's office a few days later. She was in uniform and any of her crew would have instantly recognized the expression on her face. Ferociously determined to set a wrong to right, and equally determined that nothing - or no one - would stand in her way. On Voyager, this expression would have caused the bridge crew to quail and had silenced many of Tom's quips, but the aide manning the Admiral's outer office didn't know that and foolishly tried to prevent her entering. She silenced him with a look and barged into Owen's office. 

Inside, Owen Paris was sitting with Admiral Cogley, the head of the Institute of Starfleet History. Janeway pushed past the astonished Cogley to place her palms flat on Owen's desk. 

"I want you to explain to me, Admiral," the title dripped with sarcasm, "exactly how Sarah Carey has fallen through the cracks, and is in the pitiful position she is in, without any sort of support or assistance from Starfleet." She flung a PADD down on the desk. "I suggest you read this. It details the lengths to which Sarah has gone to find out what happened to Voyager. On the surface it seems far more of a search than Starfleet managed - and it tells you exactly what it has cost her - financially, morally and emotionally. And when you're done, I want you to tell me exactly what reparation Starfleet is going to make. I will wait while you read it." Crossing to the replicator, Janeway ordered herself a coffee and went over to stand by the window. She sipped her coffee with her back to the men in the room. 

Paris glanced at Cogley, who appeared stunned at the uncharacteristic behavior of one of their admirals. "I suggest we read what she has put together, before we discuss this," Paris said sotto voce to his colleague. "Kathryn Janeway rarely puts herself out on a limb for something she doesn't truly believe in." 

Silence fell on the room as Admiral Paris read the PADD, passing it over to Cogley when he was done. 

"Your interest in this woman is commendable," Cogley said finally. "I won't ask how you found out about her illegal financing." 

"I have my sources." Janeway wasn't giving an inch. 

"What are you asking for?" Owen leant back in his chair. 

"I believe it to be appropriate that Starfleet reimburse her - with interest of course - for her considerable time and effort in hunting for one of their ships. And as Sarah is currently unemployed, and co-incidentally Admiral Cogley, your history department is actively seeking a person to chronicle Voyager's seven year journey for the popular media, I am recommending her for the position." 

"She doesn't have the qualifications." Admiral Cogley recognized a skilful manipulator when he saw one and was resisting all the way. 

"I believe that if you review her qualifications, you will find she is admirably suited for the position. She is a technical writer. And, most importantly, she has a deep and personal connection to this ship, and I am sure that this empathy will be reflected in her writing. She can start tomorrow." 

Admiral Paris raised a questioning eyebrow at his colleague. "I think we need to discuss this further. May we keep the PADD?" 

"Of course," Janeway replied keeping a neutral face, "but I'm sure you realize that that isn't the only copy. If Starfleet doesn't feel they can make amends in this situation, then I'm sure that Jake Sisko of the Federation News Service would be delighted to bring the story to the public's attention. Good afternoon, gentlemen." 

Janeway marched out of the door without a backward glance. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

Three weeks later, Michael Ayala rang the chime of the Carey's new house. In his hands he held French champagne for Sarah, Captain Proton tee shirts for the boys and a marrow chew-toy for Bran Og. He looked around him as he waited for an answer. The moss-green timber house was set back from the road in a quiet residential street on the edge of the hills around Los Angeles. There was a large garden, already showing Sarah's creative touch in its borders and the various toys scattered around obviously belonged to the boys. Bran Og had dug a large hole in one corner. A modern hover-car sat in the driveway. 

Sarah answered the door, hands dusted with flour. There was a large streak of it in her soft brown hair. 

"Michael!" She held out her arms for a hug, then obviously remembered she was covered in flour. He hugged his friend anyway, and allowed her to sweep him into the interior of the house. The house was sparsely furnished, and half-full boxes lined the walls in the hallway. 

"Still settling in?" 

"Yes, oh Mike, it's so exciting! A house, a real house, somewhere that I don't need to worry about where the kids are or what they are doing. Credits for the replicator. Employment. Here…" she drew him forward with both hands, "I have a present for you." 

"And I have one for you." He presented her with the bottle of champagne. The look of delight on her face made the credits worthwhile. 

The kitchen smelt warm and yeasty. "I've been baking," Sarah explained. "Now that I don't have to cook, it's a rare treat to do it for pleasure." She offered him a plate of muffins, and gestured to a small parcel wrapped on the counter. 

He opened it to find Joe's personal toolkit, the small leather case he had often seen him use on Voyager. 

"Sarah, surely Hunter or Joey would like to keep this," he said helplessly, trying to pass it back to her. 

"No, it's for you. I think Joe would like you to have it." She smiled, a soft smile he had rarely seen from her in the past. "Please, Michael, take it. From all of us." 

He pressed a kiss on her cheek in thanks and sat, chewing on one of the muffins she had made. "How's the new job going? Is it strange to be working for Starfleet?" 

Sarah laughed at him, and he was struck by the resemblance to the laughing young woman in Joe's holoimage. A woman he had never seen until now. 

"At first it was," she said. "I didn't want charity. But now I see there really is a position there, they didn't invent it just for me, and I can do it! And, more importantly, I love doing it. It's creative, rewarding, and, in some ways it brings me closer to Joe. It's showing me the last seven years of his life." 

Sarah returned to kneading her bread dough. "And Starfleet has paid me back all the money I spent searching for Voyager. And all the interest, and more on top. Apparently, Kathryn Janeway persuaded them that it would be very adverse publicity if, for example, the Federation News Service were to get hold of my story. They agreed in an unseemly hurry!" 

Michael grinned. "Admiral Janeway normally does get what she wants." 

An outside door slammed and running feet alerted them to Hunter and Joey's return. "Michael!" Joey flung his arms around his neck and hugged him. The more reserved Hunter just grinned. "We're going to Voyager's dedication! We have front row seats!" 

Bran Og had followed them in and was crashing around in circles, chasing his own tail. 

"That's great news," Michael said with a smile. "I'll see you there." 

Sarah was opening the bottle of champagne, pouring two large glasses and two small ones. "I think you boys can have a taste of this, seeing as how it is a special occasion," she said. "A toast. A toast to Voyager, to Admiral Janeway, and to all of the crew. And a toast to us, our family and our special friends." 

They raised their glasses and clinked them solemnly. 

"And," said Michael, "to a very special husband, father and friend. To Joe." 

The sun dappled room echoed with their shared sentiments. "To Joe."   
  
  
  



	11. Twisting The Threads Of Fate by KJ

Twisting The Threads Of Fate Disclaimer: The Starship Voyager and most of the characters in this story belong to Paramount. I gain nothing but a little peace of mind through this story.   
Rating: PG-13   
Summary: Voyager's long journey comes to an end as her crew begins their new journey into the future. 

Twisting The Threads Of Fate   
_Copyright September 2001 by KJ_

  


She materialized in the transporter room, the last time she would beam aboard this ship—her ship. Voyager had never known another captain and now she never would, yes this truly belonged to her. Standing here she thought back to the first time she had come aboard, ready to take command of her brand new ship. Admiral Patterson had hit her with a pop quiz the moment she materialized, she smiled at the memory. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"You're late." Were the first words he spoke to her. 

"Sorry, Sir." She stepped down from the pad 

"What's the threshold of the H2 molecule? 

"14.7 electron volts." 

"Third brightest star in Orion?" 

"Viewed from where?" 

"Earth." 

"Gamma Orionis or Bellatrix, if you prefer the original Arabic name." 

"Not bad. Now give me a hug Katie, that's an order." 

"I wasn't expecting a pop quiz." She stepped forward and hugged him. 

"Just wanted to make sure all those pips haven't made you forget you're a scientist first." 

"How could they? I still have nightmares about your fractal calculus final." 

They laughed then and began her very first inspection of Voyager, neither of them could have known this was to become her home for the next seven years. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Ma'am?" 

"Oh, yes Ensign." Brought back from her memories, she returned the knowing smile of the young man in front of her. 

"May I take your things to your quarters?" The young man repeated his question. 

"Yes, thank you." This would be the final time she'd use 'her' quarters. A lot of changes had taken place since the last time she was in them, reunions, trials, promotions, resignations, and even a declaration of sentience. Many things were different now, but today, if only for a few hours, they would set aside all those differences, step back in time to just one year ago; again they would become the crew she had grown to love. They would be wearing their uniforms for the dedication ceremony; the old style uniforms the ones they had worn on the day they brought Voyager home. She would forgo her new rank and wear her outdated uniform and her captain's pips proudly, the others would be doing the same and then the uniforms would also become part of history, some on display in the museum. Chakotay would once again don a Starfleet uniform and again she knew he did it for her. She wouldn't be leaving after the ceremony, instead she would use the captain's quarters to change for the reception later this evening. She handed over the things she carried, straightened her shoulders and left the transporter room for one last solitary stroll around Voyager. 

As she made her way to the lift, the scurry of cadets checking, polishing and rechecking, reminded her of another young crew. The surviving members of that crew matured quickly, in the, often hostile, environment of the Delta Quadrant. The voices of that triumphant crew, as well as those less fortunate members, rang down every corridor. 

"Deck fifteen." She ordered as the lift closed behind her. She would start at the bottom and work her way to the bridge; she needed to say good-bye to each and every deck along the way. 

She came to the small dark workspace; she could still hear Mortimer Harren, expounding his theories, trying to intimidate her with his 'superior intelligence', as if the encounter were yesterday. He was so sure with his five degrees in Theoretical Cosmology, that he would determine the origin of the entire universe and his discovery would be wasted here in the lower decks. She remembered how he had tried to talk his way out of the away mission and how far he had come since that anti-social time. As she made her way around the deck, she thought back to that mission. What started as nothing more than an exercise, a mission contrived to allow the Captain to bring three misfits into the fold, turned into a life altering experience for each of them. Billy Telfer, a hypochondriac with a fear of medication and Tal Celes, an inept astrometrics assistant, rounded out her crew for that mission and each had surpassed not only her expectations, but their own. They had all come a long way since then and she was as proud of them as any other members of her crew. 

She worked her way past deck fourteen with its antimatter containment pods, the science labs and past the crew quarters on deck thirteen, stopping a moment on deck twelve. This deck housed the reserve warp core, storage units and at one time so much more. At one time, deck twelve was the home of Voyager's 'ghost', an alien comprised of electrical energy, who took over control of Voyager's computer. When it discovered Voyager and her crew had accidentally distorted the nebula it called home, it forced the Captain to order her crew to abandon ship. The alien then trapped her before she was able to join the rest of the crew. Luckily in the end, she had been able to reason with the creature and with the crew back on board, locate a new nebula into which they successfully released the life form. She came close to losing her battle with that particular alien; she could almost feel the pressure building in her lungs as she remembered choking on the noxious gas, declaring she would die before surrendering to its whim. She took a deep breath to shake off the feeling; she had eleven more decks to visit. 

She stood in main engineering, deck eleven held many, many memories. B'Elanna Torres, tough, driven, maquis rebel and one of the best damned Starfleet officers to ever serve on a Starship. They never would have completed their journey without her courage, determination and instinctive, sometimes miraculous, engineering skills. Oh she has her faults, a red hot Klingon temper for one, Joe Carey could attest to that. He was a good officer, Joe, and an even better man. Even after B'Elanna broke his nose in that dispute and he had been passed over for the Chief engineer's position, he was the first to congratulate B'Elanna and was always there to give her his best effort. Seska had worked down here, the thought of her brought back bad memories. She was one lost crewman they were better off without. 

She circled to the shuttle bays, they spanned both deck eleven and ten in this section and were filled with memories. They had launched many important missions from here and some ill-fated ones, the delta flyer was created here and Alice was given new life. Dignitaries had been received here, and it was right here that she had sealed Voyager's fate with a kiss. Kashyk, she remembered well, the evil, intriguing, yet somehow honorable, Devore Inspector. He had been a real challenge; not an entirely unwelcome one. If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit a strong attraction to the man, as well as the game. He played well, but she played better and in the end he conceded defeat and Voyager went free. 

She passed over deck nine, it was the original security deck but had been closed off early in the journey to conserve energy. Tuvok had chosen to use his own quarters and his bridge station instead. Deck eight held the cargo bays, nothing special except for number two. As she entered cargo bay two, she was flooded with emotions, not the least of which a flutter of fear for having almost lost him. She examined the regeneration chamber. How many times had she watched as Seven regenerated; now she wondered had Chakotay done this too? She tried not to let Chakotay's involvement color her perception of Seven, she had come a very long way since being liberated from the collective and Kathryn owed her a lot, the whole crew did. More than once, Seven with her borg knowledge and technology had served them well, more than once she had saved the proverbial day. Fighting her fears and an alien intruder she protected the crew as they crossed a vast nebula full of deadly radiation. Again she protected them, when she and Naomi were the only crewmembers whose minds could not be psychogenicly manipulated by a bio-plasmic organism, who preyed on starships. Countless times she had been a valuable asset, and she had reclaimed her humanity, now she was even using her human name—Annika ---still Kathryn couldn't ease the unsettled gnawing in the pit of her stomach. She moved on, trying to concentrate on other things. 

Naomi, now there was a truly bright spot. The first child born on Voyager, she was a ray of hope to the entire crew. The Captain's Assistant, Naomi had declared herself and no one enjoyed it more than the Captain herself. As she made her way to the holodeck, she recalled telling Naomi about her own adventures with Flotter, a holocharacter all children loved. Of course as captain, she had her own favorite holocharacters. Leonardo, the great scientist and artist, she had enjoyed her time with him. She scanned the program listing, blushing when she read the name "Fair Haven". Michael, her holographic Irish lover, now there was a real moment of weakness. She had enjoyed his company and he was a wonderful diversion, it was all, just a little to public. No harm had come of it, the crew was mildly amused and Starfleet had overlooked it completely- all's well that ends well. Ahh, Lake George, she and Chakotay had spent some quiet time sailing there. She had the real thing now, she no longer needed the holodeck simulation, and thankfully she no longer needed to pretend she and Chakotay were only friends. 

She found herself standing outside the door to sickbay, the memories here were especially difficult. They suffered so many losses over the years, each one tragic. The last, possibly the hardest, coming so close to their home coming. She wanted to acknowledge the losses but not dwell on them, instead she chose to recollect the doctor's victories. To concentrate on the great medical discoveries he made, the many lives he had saved and his contribution to the crew both professionally and personally. He had become so much more than the compilation of his programs and she was grateful for his help, his loyalty and his friendship. As she stepped through the doors, heart-wrenching visions assaulted her, good and bad. She had first met the doctor here in the aftermath of the displacement wave, he was nothing more than a computer program then, how much had changed over the years. She touched the biotables as she envisioned the room as it was on that fateful day. What had begun in the chaos, the death and destruction of that first day in the Delta Quadrant, had ended in the same sort of drama. Their return to Federation space was marked not by death but by a brand new life. It was fitting, they would all have new lives now and Voyager would soon make her final journey to a new resting place to begin her own life anew. She reminded herself that it would be starting soon, she needed to move on and complete her tour. 

She passed over the next two decks, crew quarters could be visited later, the lift stopped on deck two. The mess hall and what had once been her private dinning room, now Voyagers galley, had always been a center of activity. Meals and lives were shared here, diplomatic dinners and crew celebrations, midnight raids on Neelix's hidden treasures, and solitary cups of coffee in the cold loneliness of night. Neelix, such a funny little man she had thought at first, but he had proved to be an able shipmate, a talented diplomat with a heart at least as big as Voyager herself. She missed him. Lost in thought she almost missed the voices coming from inside. She peered in to see several crewmembers already gathered there. She wasn't ready to share this with the crew yet; she backed off and headed to the bridge. 

The doors swished open and she stood silently observing the flurry of activity. They were putting the finishing touches on the spit and polish for today's ceremony. 

"Captain on the Bridge." An eager young voice rang out. 

"As you were." Her automatic response, as she crossed to her command chair remembering a time when the bridge was far from the showpiece it was today. The times when wires sparked and consoles smoked, when she had clung to her chair as the ship rocked and jolted under some alien attack, those times played across her mind. Looking up at the blank view screen she envisioned the first time she had seen him there, the ruggedly handsome Maquis outlaw, even then part of her knew she needed him. He had restrained B'Elanna that day when she destroyed the array, held tight to her hand the day she was assimilated by the Borg and had been at her side every step in between. Standing, she ran her hand along the smooth, polished surface of the railing, smiling to herself as she exited the bridge to her ready room. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Captain." The young Lieutenant stopped polishing the coffee table and snapped to attention. 

"As you were, Lieutenant. Don't let me interrupt you." Kathryn took a seat behind her desk. 

"I'm almost finished here, ma… Captain." She blushed slightly when she saw that Kathryn noticed the correction. "It works, Captain." She nodded toward the replicator. "Can I get you a coffee?" 

"Thank You, Lieutenant..?" She was tempted to get it herself, but this young woman obviously wanted to do something for her. 

"Perrier, Captain. Danielle Perrier." She made her way to the replicator. "Coffee black." She ordered with no hesitation. 

"Thank You, Lieutenant Perrier. How did you know how I drank it?" Kathryn smiled at the increased pinkness in the woman's cheeks. 

"I've made it a point, Captain, to learn all I can about you." Her face was even redder now, but she forced herself to continue. "You are an inspiration to us all. I will to be a captain someday and I hope to be as good as you." 

"Well that's very flattering, but I've made my share of mistakes, as I'm sure you will. My best advise Lieutenant is not to try to be me, but to be the best you, you can be and learn by those mistakes." 

"Yes, Captain I'll try." 

The chime interrupted their conversation. 

"Come." Kathryn called and the door swished open to reveal, as she knew it would, her first officer. "Come in, Commander." 

"Captain." He nodded smiling in her direction, then at the Lieutenant. "Lieutenant" 

"Sir." She looked from one to the other. "Captain, Commander, If you will excuse me. I'm finished here." 

"Certainly. Dismissed." Kathryn stepped around the desk next to Chakotay. "Lieutenant?" 

"Yes, Captain?" She turned and faced the smiling command team. 

"Keep doing your homework, You'll make a good captain someday." 

"Thank you Captain, I'll do my best." 

With the swish of the doors, they were alone once more in her ready room, perhaps for the last time. She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, he responded by pulling her tightly to him. 

"Come, look at the stars." She move back, took his hand and led him to the viewport. "This will be the last time any one will see the stars from this port—in about a hour you'll see Alcatraz." She leaned back against his chest, pulling his arms around her. 

"She's had a good life, Kathryn. She deserves a rest." 

"Yes, she does, we all do, but it's just a little sad to be moving on." 

Together they watched the stars, silently thanking whatever powers there may be, and one admiral from the future, that they would be moving on together. It hadn't been an easy journey, but it was a good one and the future promised to be even better. 

"Tuvok to Janeway." The familiar Vulcan voice alerted them. 

"Janeway here" 

"It is almost time, Captain." 

"Thank you, Tuvok. On our way. Janeway out." She turned in his arms. "Ready Commander?" 

"I'm with you, Captain." He bent and brushed his lips softly across hers. "Always." 

Stepping back she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and walked onto the bridge. Tuvok was at tactical, Harry at opps, B'Elanna stood by the engineering station, Seven, no Annika, manned the science console, and Tom had the helm. The only thing out of place was the transmitter that would broadcast live to everyplace capable of receiving a subspace transmission, the final flight of the Starship Voyager, direct from the bridge. Everything they did or said from now on would instantly be transmitted to millions. 

"Captain on the bridge." Tuvok announced and they all stood and saluted her. 

She returned their salute and took her command chair. Fighting back tears, she took his hand and nodded to Harry to open a ship wide channel. 

"All hands, this is the Captain. Before we go into our final descent, I would like to thank you all for the honor of being your captain. I thank you for your faith, your loyalty and for the courage you have all shown throughout this difficult journey. It is only through your determination and hard work that we were able to complete our mission and return Voyager safely to the Alpha Quadrant. I am proud to have served with each and every one of you. And I'm sure I speak for all of you, when I say, thank you Voyager for the comfort and shelter you steadfastly provided for us on this long and arduous journey." She paused to collect herself, feeling him squeeze her hand she met his moist eyes with tear-filled eyes of her own. "All hands, secure your stations, blue alert. Lieutenant Torres, take the warp drive off line." 

"Warp drive off line, Captain. Venting plasma." 

"Let's do it. Mr. Paris, take us down." 

"Aye Captain." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

A sizeable crowd, which included dignitaries from many worlds, family and friends, the Federation council, all of Starfleet's top brass, as well as thousands of ordinary citizens, silently watched the large screen at the landing site. The scene before them offered more drama than any holonovel, it was heart wrenchingly powerful, more so than Voyager's sudden return exactly a year ago. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Plotting descent course." Tom's fingers flew over his console 

"Atmospheric thrusters on line." B'Elanna calmly informed them. 

"Atmospheric controls on standby, landing mechanisms on line, inertia dampers at maximum." Tom ran down each step in the landing sequence. 

"All decks report condition blue, Captain." Tuvok reported 

"Put her down Mr. Paris." She settled back in her chair. "Status" 

"On the glide trajectory, altitude 100 kilometers, speed 1000 KPH" Tom smiled up at the view screen, as the picture cleared and earth came into view. "20 kilometers to landing site, should be getting a visual now." 

"Extend landing struts; prepare to recalibrate inertial dampers to match earth's gravity." 

"Landing struts down and locked.' Tom's response was confident. 

"Standing by environmental controls." Harry watched the landing sight and enormous crowd come into view. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The scene from the bridge mesmerized the crowd, many of them had never experienced space travel and most of those that had, had never seen it from the bridge. The awed silence was broken by shouts and cheers as Voyager came into view, the excitement building as the crowd was torn between the broadcast from the bridge and the diamond bright lights growing larger on the horizon. And then there she was, 

Voyager's lights spectacular against the darkening skies, as she swooped above the Golden Gate Bridge. It was widely known that in relation to other ships, the intrepid class was a small craft, but as she hovered above the landing sight, she was the biggest, proudest, most dignified starship anyone could ever remember seeing. She swept across the skies, looping up and taking a 'victory lap' from the bridge, across the academy campus and back to the site, in a flamboyant style that could only belong to Tom Paris, finally coming to rest with feather light precision on the landing pad. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Disengaging engines, securing thruster exhaust." Tom gave a relieved sigh as he put the final touches on their landing "We're down. Captain, we are home." 

"Good job, Tom. All hands, we have touch down." Kathryn stood in front of her command chair, reaching for Chakotay's hand and bringing him to stand beside her. "Stand down blue alert and Welcome home." 

Cheers erupted both in the waiting audience and throughout the ship, the lift opened and a jubilant Celes rushed out, handing Miral to her mother as she crossed to Harry at Opps. Tom had joined B'Elanna at Engineering, embracing both his girls at once; Celes was excitedly hugging Harry, and even Tuvok almost smiled. 

The Command team stood watching and listening to the celebrations, smiling as they looked around, fingers still tightly intertwined. It happened so fast, yet it seemed to move in slow motion. She turned to look at Harry; he was saying something she couldn't hear above the noise. Then blue eyes met brown, locking together and suddenly nothing else existed. She tilted her head and smiled the crooked smile she reserved for him; those dimples were melting her knees. Reaching up, one finger lightly traced the blue lines and her heart started to pound, her fingers slipped through his hair gently tugging him toward her. Her lips met his with soft insistence, her tongue slipping out to trace and gently part his lips. Wrapping her in a tight embrace, his shocked resistance melted as her tongue tangled with his. The crew went on cheering, the transmitter continued to send images, and dimly in the background she heard some one call her name, but she was lost in the sensation. She was home. 

"Errr--- S—So- orry Sir, Captain Janeway seems to be—er –well, unavailable at the moment." Harry stammered in answer to the admiral's hail. 

"Yes, Ensign I can see that." The admiral chuckled. "The _entire Federation _can see that." 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

The ceremony itself was long and for the most part boring, it seemed every admiral in Starfleet wanted to take credit in some way for Voyager. G'ratriska Pelinkt, federation president wanted her share and went to great length to let the universe know she had never given up on finding the lost ship. 

Kathryn looked out over the sea of faces, she had done her part, brought Voyager home with the help of her crew, and she was happy to note they had all responded to her invitation and returned to finish the job. Kessa was standing off to one side; she spotted Sarah and the boys in the front row and smiled when Hunter waved to her. She was glad things were working out for them. Joey gently cradled Joe's tiny reproduction of Voyager, the bottle was newly replicated, but the boys had worked hard to repair the damaged ship, by hand. 

Some admiral droned on in the background as she continued to surf the crowd. Her mother and sister were seated next to Anne Paris; Adam and the twins sat behind them. She could see Greskrendtregk admiring his new family, as proud of his new 'son' as he was his daughter, another happy ending. They had been fortunate most had happy endings. Sveta was seated toward the back, she hadn't thought she would like her— meeting Sveta had been a pleasant surprise. Mark and Cathy were here and she could pick out John and Mary Kim, Harry's parents and John Torres, B'Elanna's father. Many of them she didn't recognize by sight although she was sure she knew their names and would recognize their association with her crew. Others in the crowd stood out, those relatives of deceased crewman she had visited over the past year. Kurt Bendera's sister, Pete Durst's wife, Marie Kaplan's parents, Marissa Cavit and Hartlen Stadi and so many –too many –more. These were the unhappy endings; they had come, she supposed, to honor their loved ones and to try to get some closure. 

Chakotay touched her hand bringing her back to the ceremony, which was about to conclude. His smile told her he understood where she had been; his eyes told her he loved her. With a squeeze of his hand as they stood, she returned the sentiment. They moved toward the entrance ramp, where the ribbon would be cut, making the dedication official. At first it was assumed she would do the honors, but in the end the privilege went to the most deserving person. The honor of opening Voyager to the public went to her first natural born citizen and the crowd showed overwhelming support, as Naomi Wildman stepped forward and took the scissors from President Pelinkt. Cutting the ribbon, she proudly led the delegation up the gangplank. Voyager now belonged to the people. 

Most of the crew had already spent some time on board; they were given the opportunity to say their farewell and were familiar with the changes that had been made. The invited guests were offered tours, which allowed the crew time to change from their uniforms. In spite of the heavy Starfleet presence, this was a social function; a celebration and ranks were to be left at the door. 

Kathryn and Chakotay were about to slip away to her quarters, when Naomi, Kathryn's niece and nephew, the Carey boys and Ayala's children in tow, caught up with them. 

"Captain." Naomi called to her. 

"Naomi, yes?" She turned and saw the small crowd behind her. "Well, what have we here?" 

"I'm taking them all on a tour of the ship, Captain." Naomi proudly announced. 

"Well, you couldn't have a better tour guide than the Captain's Assistant." She smiled at the knowing nods. "What can I help you with?" 

"Hunter and Joey have Lieutenant Carey's ship—is there a safe place to put it, we wouldn't want to damage it again." She rolled her eyes toward the boys. 

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I know just the place." She motioned them to follow her, leading them to the holosuite where most of the reception would be held. Scattered throughout the room were small display cases with various artifacts collected in the delta quadrant. Kathryn opened one that housed some of her own possessions and cleared the center shelf. "Put it right here, I'll be right back." She returned to them shortly placing a small, replicated plaque next to the ship. "There, that should take care of it until you are ready to go home." 

"Replica of the Star Ship Voyager, hand crafted by Lieutenant Joseph Carey and completed by his sons Hunter and Joseph Carey, from whom this treasure is on loan." Naomi read out loud. "Yep, I think that will do it. Thank you, Captain." 

"You're welcome." She watched and the children each examined and approved the plaque, then turned to follow Naomi out. "I think we can go now." She took his hand and they made their escape to the lift. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Come on Ren. You worked and lived with these people for seven years. They're still your friends, no one said anything earlier did they?" Noah Lessing tried to coax his friend into the reception. 

"This is different. They had to talk to me on the ship –that was like work and this is social." She peeked around the corner. "They must all hate me." 

"No body hates you—you didn't do anything wrong." He tried to usher her forward into the room. 

"I don't know…." 

"Hey Noah, Ren, what's keeping you out here?" Megan Delaney spoke as she came up behind them, Pablo, Jenny and Freddy right behind her. "The party is on the other side of the doors." 

"Hi, we're just a little nervous." He kept Renlay from retreating by holding her arm. 

"About what—brass? They are just a bunch of stuffed shirts with pips!" Jenny shrugged. "Hell, you guys aren't even 'fleet anymore—come-on let's party." She grabbed Sharr and dragged her into the reception. 

The room was nearly full, all of the guests had finished their tours and a large portion of the crew was already there. Naomi was busy showing off her father and the Carey boys were standing guard over the display case housing their replica of Voyager. Sam and Sarah were in a corner making an effort to include Annika in their conversation. Little groups had formed in other sections of the room, the Starfleet brass was easy to pick out, Federation big wigs all stood together, and the few senior staff members that had arrived formed a semi circle, in the center of the room. Only the 'lowerdecks' personnel seemed to be mingling and even they had their divisions. Marla Gilmore, James Morrow, Brian Sofin, and Angelo Tassoni, four of the 'Equinox five' stood off to the side, more than a little unsure of their welcome. 

Billy Telfer and Mortimer Harren sat at a small table, they made a strange pair to most eyes, but the friendship seemed unshakable. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

"Want a drink?" He ordered her a wine without waiting for an answer. She was lost in thought as she wandered 'her' quarters for the last time. "Here, you look like you could use this." He handed her the glass 

"Thanks." She smiled thoughtfully then laughed out loud. 

"What?" He could not resist chuckling, when she laughed like this she was up to something. 

"Oh – I was just thinking." The sparkle in her eyes gave her away. 

"About?" 

"We have spent so much time in these quarters—hours and hours over the years." She stepped in closer to him. 

"Yes we have, so what's your point?" He recognized the look; he was thinking he was gonna like this conversation. 

"Well there is one thing we have never done here." She put one arm around his neck and rested her wineglass on his shoulder. 

"Oh I see – and were you thinking we should correct that oversight?" 

"This would be our last chance and …" She tilted her head and smiled. 

"And you would hate to pass up such an opportunity." He took her glass and placed it on the table. 

"It's an old habit by now, you know –'waste not, want not' as they say." 

"What about the reception?" He ran his hands down her back, as she pressed closer to him. 

"They'll wait." She slid one hand into his hair and drew his mouth down to hers. 

=^= =^= =^= =^= =^= =^= 

It was a little awkward at first but after a time the crewmembers began to introduce their loved ones to one another, as they slipped easily into the old camaraderie of their Delta Quadrant days. Friendships were renewed, as they recounted the past year and reminisced about the seven before that. 

"Seven?" 

"Icheb." Annika turned startled to hear her designation used rather than her name. 

"I'm sorry, its Annika now isn't it?" 

"Yes.." She smiled at the young man before her; he seemed so grown now. "But you may call me Seven, if it makes you more comfortable." 

"No, Annika --- it's a very pretty name." 

"Thank you." She shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Icheb, I'm sorry. I know things ended abruptly and I…" 

"I know. It was difficult, but Sam and Naomi helped me and now Greskrendtregk. We are a family." 

"I'm glad." She reached out to him. "How are you?" 

"I'm well, and how have you adapted? You have family?" 

"Yes, my aunt is here. You will have to meet her and I want to meet your new father too…" She watched his expression. "If that is alright, and Icheb I hope we can be friends." 

"I would like that." 

Annika and Icheb spent some time together, updating one another, each coming away a little happier, their relationship just a little less strained. Two hours later, the party was in full swing, even the brass had loosened up and seemed to be enjoying themselves. The Voyager crew, however, was still missing its two most senior officers and speculation as to their whereabouts was growing. 

"Tom, enough." B'Elanna slapped his arm. "Leave them alone. They went to the Captain's quarters to change – obviously something has detained them." She tried to be serious and keep the smirk off her face. 

"Oh yea of course, like some urgent ship's business." Tom laughed. "We are on the ground B'E! Oh maybe its 'crew evaluation' time—again!" 

"It's not like the Captain to be late." Harry put up a weak defense and Celes giggled. 

"After that show today, yes I'd say it was just like Katie to be – detained." Owen Paris laughed. "Obviously you know a different Kathryn Janeway than I do." 

"Come on, Dad. We lived with her for seven years. I think we know her pretty well." 

"You know Captain Kathryn Janeway—not Katie." He laughed. "They aren't so different, really. Since you've been home she has had to lay low, as they say, to make sure you were all treated fairly – but generally she fights for what she wants and when she gets it, she is proud of it." 

"So you're saying that wasn't just congratulations today on the bridge?" Tom looked innocent. 

"God if that was just…" B'Elanna punched Tom's arm, harder this time. "Kah'les, she almost swallowed the man!" They all laughed. 

"Just what have we missed?" The familiar husky voice broke up their laughter. 

"I think we are the ones who missed something." Harry blurted out, then blushed furiously. 

"_Oh_?" She raised an eyebrow and surveyed the group. 

"Katie, you look lovely." Owen stepped up and kissed her cheek, fingering her necklace. "This is especially lovely." 

"Thank you, Owen." She smiled. "It was a gift from a very dear man and I finally have an occasion special enough to wear it. 

"So Captain.." Tom started but she interrupted him. 

"Tom please, Kathryn --no rank, remember?" 

"Okay – So Kathryn, where have you been for the last two hours?" He looked from one to the other; they both just smiled at him. 

"Actually, Tom.." She slid closer and put one arm around Chakotay's waist. "On my honeymoon." She smiled at the open mouths and looked up at her husband. "Shall we get something to drink?" 

"Yes." They turned and walked toward the bar, leaving a stunned staff behind them. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The only source of tension in the room was a small knot of virtually unnoticed people, talking in hushed whispers in the far corner of the room. At the center of the group was Renlay Sharr. 

"Ren, stop it." Marla was trying to calm her down. 

"Easy for you Marla, you didn't make a complaint." She looked up to see the command team enter the room. "Shit, she's here." 

"Just take it easy." Noah handed her a fresh drink. "It's a party, she isn't going to say anything." 

"She's coming over here." She nodded her head in their direction. 

"Just getting a drink—calm down." 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Kathryn and Chakotay took their drinks and began to circulate around the room. 

"Some things never change. Here we are, making rounds being the perfect command team, just as we always have." 

"Not exactly." He tightened his hold on her waist. "This might be a little different." 

"Kathryn, Chakotay." Sarah called them over 

"Hi, nice to see you. Enjoying the party?" 

"Yes, its very nice and thank you for the display, the boys are thrilled." 

"Happy to help." 

"Speaking of help, thank you again." 

"Don't mention it Sarah, You deserve it." Kathryn leaned closer. "How is the job going?" 

"Brilliant, thank you, just wonderful." 

"I knew you would be perfect for it." 

"Excuse me." B'Elanna took hold of Chakotay's arm and move him away from Kathryn. "May I steal him a moment?" 

Kathryn just looked up and laughed. 

"Thanks." B'Elanna tugged him away. 

"Okay Mister, what in the name of Sto-Vo-Kor was that?" 

"B'Ella …" He couldn't keep from laughing. "What are you talking about?" 

"Kah'les!" She rolled her eyes. "Honeymoon?!! You can't just say that and walk away." 

"Oh that." 

"Yes THAT!" 

"Yes, we were married this morning before the dedication." 

"Oh, 'we were married'?! Just like that!" She punched him. "P'takh! and you didn't think you would tell me?!" 

"We just did." His laughter was drawing attention now. 

"Old man, If I didn't love you…" She stopped and hugged him. "Congratulations" 

"Thanks B'Ella." 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

When Chakotay got back to Kathryn, she was chatting with Aunt Irene and a very embarrassed Annika Hansen. He had never seen Seven, and he could still only think of her as Seven, blush before, it was actually almost cute. Irene was busy sharing her memories of the young Annika with everyone within earshot. 

"Oh Irene, this is my husband, Chakotay." Kathryn saw Annika smile and wondered if, subconsciously she had introduced him that way on purpose. "Chakotay, this is Irene Hansen, Annika's aunt. 

"Nice to meet you Irene." He shook her hand. "Se—Annika it's good to see you." Of course he had seen her on the bridge but he hadn't spoken to her then. 

"You also, how have you been, Chakotay?" She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I hear congratulations are in order. I am happy for you, both of you." 

"Thank you. Chakotay, Irene was just telling us about when Annika was small." Kathryn put her arm around his waist. 

"Yes, but first let me say how happy I am to meet you, Chakotay. Annie has told me about you." 

"I believe we have taken up enough of your time." Annika took her Aunt's arm. "Aunt Irene we should be going." 

"Annie, I haven't finished telling your friends about the time you ran naked through that important meeting Magnus was having just before your last trip…." 

"I believe…" Seven stood up straight, she was much taller than her aunt, but Irene was not fazed. 

"Nonsense honey, it will only take a minute of their time." She brushed off Seven and returned to her captive audience. "It was just before they went off hunting Borg; Magnus was meeting with several large backers. His research was very expensive you see, so this meeting was important. Any way about half way through, Annie here, comes bursting into the room—"TA DA" she yells running around the room totally naked." Irene was laughing and Seven couldn't have been any redder. "Erin was mortified but Magnus just laughed. The girl could do no wrong in her daddy's eyes." 

"I'm glad you have such happy memories to share with Annika." Kathryn really was happy, for both of them; they would be good for each other. 

"Aunt Irene." Seven said a bit sternly. "We have taken enough of their time and they have others to speak with." She softened a bit. "Besides I want you to meet the Doctor. Kathryn, Chakotay, congratulations again, I'm sure we will see each other soon." Seven walked away with a smile. 

"Kathryn, I know I embarrassed her but it is good for her—she needs the practice." Irene winked and laughed. "Seriously though, I want to thank both of you for giving her back to me. I will treasure your gift." 

"You are welcome. I won't say it wasn't a struggle, but she's worth it." Kathryn accepted a hug from Irene, before she slipped off to rejoin Seven. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The word was spreading quietly but quickly, there was a buzz in the air and those who knew already, quietly smiled and confirmed the rumor. Billy Telfer and Mortimer Harren, since joined by Bill Chapman and Kashi Nozawa were enjoying a quiet discussion when Celes excitedly jumped in Billy's lap. 

"Did you hear?" 

"Hello, Celes." Billy leaned her back to look at her face. 

"Billy, did you hear?" She shook his shoulders. 

"No, I guess not." He looked at the others; they just shook their heads. 

"I'd guess we're about to, though." Chapman sniped. 

"They got married." Celes was as excited as if she were talking about herself and chose to ignore their lack of enthusiasm. 

"Who?" Harren asked, not really interested. 

"Come-on Marty, not even you are that isolated." Billy shook his head. 

"The Ca---Kathryn and Chakotay." 

"Oh." Mortimer sipped his drink 

"Oh?! Isn't that great?" 

"Yeah Celes, it is great. About time they had a chance." Billy gave Nozawa a push. "Kashi?" He jerked his head in Tal's direction. 

"Hey great news, yeah about time." Kashi smiled and kicked Chapman under the table. 

"Ouch, oh yeah thanks for letting us know—great news Celes." 

"Damn! You guys don't have a romantic bone in your bodies!" She jumped off Billy's lap. "Going back where I'm appreciated." 

"Ahhh yes, Harry now there's a romantic guy for you." Chapman teased. 

"Stuff it, Chapman." She whirled around, leaving them to chuckle behind her. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Kathryn and Chakotay circulated for a while, making appropriate noises to the brass and chatting with several of the crew. They talked for a while with Tuvok and T'Pel, who had been the only witnesses at this morning's ceremony. They had moved on and were talking to her mother and sister when she saw Renlay Sharr watching her from behind Noah Lessing. 

"Excuse me." She touched Chakotay's arm and nodded toward Sharr and Lessing. "There is something I need to take care of." Chakotay just nodded in response. 

"Of course Kath, I'll just hold on to this handsome husband of yours for you." Gretchen continued her conversation with Chakotay, leaving Kathryn on her own. 

"She—oh my—she's coming over here." Renlay urgently whispered, tugging Noah between herself and the advancing captain. 

"Stop Ren, You're really getting paranoid." 

"No, really she…." 

"Hello, enjoying the reception?" 

"Uh Captain, Yes." Marla struggled to answer. "It's ---nice…." 

"I'm glad you could make it and please, no rank. I'm not your Captain anymore, call me Kathryn, please." 

"Why?" Renlay was shocked to hear the word actually come out of her mouth; she hadn't meant to say it out loud. 

"What?" An equally shocked Kathryn looked back at her. 

"I—I—asked why. Why would you want _us_ here?" She had opened her mouth; she figured she might as well go the whole way. 

"Voyager was your ship too, every member of her crew worked hard to bring her home." Kathryn tried to regain her own composure; she hadn't expected hostility from Sharr. "You deserve to be here." 

"Not everyone would agree." 

"I can't speak for everyone, only myself and I believe you all deserve equal credit." Kathryn studied the younger woman. She knew about the complaints, she hadn't taken Sharr's personally, which is what Renlay must think. Lessing's on the other hand was more legitimate than she cared to admit. "How's the new job working out Renlay—Galactic Village—isn't it?" 

"Fine, it's working out pretty well actually." Renlay was becoming less defensive; small talk was not what she had expected from the Captain. 

"I'm glad, it's important to do work you enjoy." She smiled turning back to Marla. "You're still working in engineering aren't you Marla?" 

"Yea, a Rakhari freighter, the Nordhoff. It's not 'fleet, but they need me and I enjoy the work." 

"Good, I'm sure you'll do well. You're a fine engineer." Noah had been silently watching her. "Noah, can I speak to you? Would you excuse us, please?" 

"Sure." Both women nodded and backed away, leaving Noah alone with Kathryn. 

"Captain, I won't make excuses. I'm not ashamed of my complaint." 

"Kathryn, please and I don't expect you to." She put her hand on his folded arms, so Kathryn a gesture, yet it startled him. "Noah, I'm the one who should apologize. At the time I thought what I was doing was justified, hindsight is a wonderful thing. I realize I went too far and my mistake could have had terrible consequences. Fortunately, for both of us Chakotay was thinking more clearly." She paused and looked up at him; he said nothing, just stared. "I should have spoken to you about this a long time ago and so I owe you an apology for that also. I hope you can forgive me." Again he gave no response. "Well, enjoy the rest of the party and good luck, Noah." She turned and walked back toward Chakotay. 

"What did she say?" Marla asked as the two rushed back to him. 

"She…" He turned toward Kathryn's retreating back. "CA—thryn?" She turned back. "Good luck to you too." He smiled and she returned it with a nod before continuing on her way. "She said - she's only human, guess I never saw her like that." 

"Guess none of us did." 

The trio watched Kathryn rejoin Chakotay, he was speaking with a distinguished older gentleman they all knew by reputation, though few had dealt with him personally, Benatar Muir. He was obviously not a stranger to Kathryn; she greeted him warmly. 

"Ben, how have you been?" She smiled at older man. 

"Busy Kathryn, busy." He laughed. "That's a lot of information you brought back with you." 

"That is why we go out there isn't, Admiral?" 

"Now _Kathryn_, I've grown accustomed to you ignoring my orders, but now you're breaking your own rules—no rank. And speaking of rules, you must tell me something." He looked around the room and leaned in close to her, "What was that stunt you pulled on the bridge earlier? Are you trying to undo all my hard work?" 

"Someone has to keep you on your toes." She laughed. 

"Kathryn." He shook his head. "Even the infamous Kirk didn't broadcast his indiscretions subspace." 

"Only Kathryn Janeway would dare that..." Reginald Barclay joined the conversation. " and expect to get away with it!" 

"Now Reg, you know there are no regulations against a captain kissing her own husband." 

"So the rumor is true—congratulations." He leaned in and kissed her cheek and shook Chakotay's hand. 

"Thank You." 

"Now I have a little surprise for you." He motioned them to follow. "If you will come over here." He led them to a large view screen set up at the other end of the room and tapped his comm. badge. "Okay, Ensign, if you would." 

"Aye Sir." The unseen ensign replied and the view screen came to life. 

"Congratulations and greetings from the Delta Quadrant." The screen was filled with rolling lines and static but the voice was clear and unmistakable. 

"Neelix, thank you. I'm so happy you could join us." The transmission cleared and Kathryn could see Dexa, and Brax standing beside Neelix. "And congratulations to you three as well." 

"Thank you, Captain." Dexa, smiled. "I wish you all, the happiness Neelix has brought to us." 

"NEELIX- NEELIX!" Naomi shouted as she made her way past the crowd to the screen. "Oh sorry, Captain." 

"Go ahead, honey." Kathryn laughed and stepped back out of the way. 

"Neelix." Naomi stared up at the screen. 

"Naomi, so good to see you. I miss you." 

"Me too." She looked around her. "I want you to meet my father." She didn't see him nearby. "Oh, I don't know where he is, but it is so nice. It is so good to have a father, I…" She stopped and studied Neelix's face, then rushed on. "It's not like having you—I still love you. I miss you—it's just…." 

"I know honey, I have a wonderful new family too. But it doesn't mean I love you less." 

"I'm glad you're happy, Neelix. I wish I could come and see you and Dexa, and Brax." 

"They are working on it Naomi, maybe some day soon we will be able to visit" 

"I hope so. Mr. Vulcan, is here—talk to him while I look for my father—Okay?" She ran off without waiting for his answer. 

Neelix talked to Tuvok, and just about everyone else on the crew, before ending the transmission almost an hour later. Naomi had located her father and proudly introduced him to her godfather. The party wound down after that, those with young children leaving first, followed quickly by most of the Admiralty and Federation officials. The elder Parises took Miral home, allowing Tom and B'Elanna to stay on a little longer. They walked down the gangplank together, the six remaining members of the senior staff accompanied by T'Pel and Celes. The last of the crew to disembarked, they stood for a long moment just looking up at her. 

"We've only seen her from this angle a few times." Leaning into Chakotay's embrace, Kathryn spoke softly, mostly to herself. 

"Yeah, the scariest one was when she took off and left us behind." Harry reminded them of when Seska and the Kazon had captured Voyager, leaving the crew on a primitive planet. 

"She came back for us." 

"Ahhh hemm." Tom exaggerated the sound 

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. We know flyboy." B'Elanna gave him a shove. "When you saved the day." 

They laughed and began to wander toward the public transport site, a bit reluctant to part company. Once there, they said little, but didn't move to enter it, instead choosing to lean against walls, star gaze, anything but say good-bye. 

"This is silly you guys." B'Elanna spoke first. "It's been a busy day and we all have places to be." 

"She's right." Tom sat on the bench outside the station. 

"Of course I'm right." She sat beside him. "So how come we're sitting here?" She laughed as she looked at the others, they all moved to get more comfortable. 

"'Cause it's hard not to be together." Harry slumped down on the sidewalk. 

"I know Starfleet, I know." B'Elanna rested against Tom's shoulder. 

"He's right." Kathryn reached over and patted Harry's head. "I do miss seeing all of you every day." 

"We will still see each other." Chakotay pulled Kathryn back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "Harry you'll be working with Kathryn. Tuvok and I will both be at the Academy." 

"And there will be occasions like…" Celes looked at Harry. 

"Yeah." He smiled and took her hand. "Like our wedding, I know you will all be there." 

"Of course you P'takh." B'Elanna jumped up as the words registered. "Wedding—Starfleet?" She hugged him knocking both of them flat on the pavement. 

"Easy B'Elanna, don't break him." Celes reached to help them up. 

"Kathryn, our baby is all grown up." Chakotay hugged her closer and leaned in to whisper. "Now stop crying." This earned him a poke with her elbow and a laugh when she wiped her eyes. 

"Congratulations, both of you." She broke away from Chakotay to hug Celes, then Harry. 

"May your bond be strong and lasting." Tuvok touched both of their shoulders in a rare tactile moment. 

"Welcome aboard, Harry." Tom hugged his friend. "What the hell is the universe coming to?" He gestured to Chakotay. "This guy – now you?" 

"Please, Paris if you can do it –anyone can." 

"I hate to break this up, but Tom and I really have to get back to Miral." B'Elanna kissed Celes and Harry. "We will get together soon--- I want all the details." 

"We have to go too." Kathryn began her own round of hugs. 

"Yeah they have a honeymoon to get back to." Tom slapped Chakotay on the back. 

"Yes we do." Kathryn laughed. "Now don't forget we'll all get together soon—our house. I'll be in touch." 

They all murmured agreement and reassurances, they would get together soon, but it would never be the same. Their most comfort came from an unexpected source, Tuvok 

"The bond we share is greater than the challenges we face; it will not be broken" 

"Of course it is." Kathryn hugged Tuvok and T'Pel. "We are family. Families grow and change all the time, but the bond is never broken. We're really no different than other families." 

"Except that we have one hell of a gene pool!" Tom could always ease the tension with a joke. 

"Okay go on." Kathryn ushered them into the station. 

Each gave the operator their coordinates and in turn each couple shimmered and disappeared. Kathryn and Chakotay were the last to leave. She wandered to the window for one last look at Voyager shimmering in a bath of light. 

"You will see her again, any time you want." 

"I know, but she won't be mine anymore." 

"You're wrong Kathryn." He took her in his arms. "That's one thing Voyager and I have in common. We will always be yours." He bent and kissed his bride, then scooped her up and carried her to the transport pad. 

"What are you doing?" 

"An old Terran tradition, carrying my bride over the threshold." He winked and nodded at the attendant and they kissed as they shimmered away.   


  


_~ *~ The End ~*~_

  
  
  



End file.
